So she spoke, but I, wishing in my mind, pondered how I might seize the soul of my departed mother. Three times I attempted it, and my spirit urged me to seize her, and three times she flew from my hands like a shadow or a dream. And a sharp pain increased in my heart even more, and addressing her with winged words I spoke: ‘Mother mine, why do you not wait for me, eager as I am to seize you, so that even in Hades we might throw our beloved hands around each other and enjoy cold grief? Has noble Persephone sent me a phantom to deceive me, so that I may lament and moan even more?’
“She said all this, and I turned it over in my mind to take hold of my dead mother’s soul. Three times my heart impelled me to hold her, and I moved forward. Three times she slipped from my arms like a shadow or a dream, and the pain became sharper in my heart. I found my voice and made these words take wing.
“‘Mother, why won’t you stay? I want to hug you, so that the two of us, here in the house of Hades, might throw our arms around each other with love and find solace in our coldest grief? Is this some hallucination that her grace Persephone has sent me, to make me cry out and groan even more?’
“Those were her words, and as I brooded inwardly upon them, a desire rose in me to embrace the soul of my departed mother. Three times I reached for her as my heart prompted me to hold her close, and three times she flitted from my arms like a shadow or a dream, and each time the pain in my heart grew sharper. And I spoke to her in words that went as straight as winged shafts:
“‘My mother, why won’t you hold still while I’m trying to hug you, so that even in Hades’ realm the two of us might wrap our arms around each other in loving embrace and comfort ourselves with chill mourning? Or is this just some phantom that the imperious Persephone has called up for me, to draw still more groans from my grief in my frustration?’
So she spoke, and I wondered how I might embrace my dead mother’s ghost. Three times my will urged me to clasp her, and I started towards her, three times she escaped my arms like a shadow or a dream. And the pain seemed deeper in my heart. Then I spoke to her with winged words: “Mother, since I wish it why do you not let me embrace you, so that even in Hades’ House we might clasp our arms around each other and sate ourselves with chill lament? Are you a mere phantom royal Persephone has sent, to make me groan and grieve the more?
“At these words, I gave a strangled cry and leaped across the ditch to embrace her. But her shade slipped through my arms. Three times I tried to clasp her to my breast and three times she slipped away from me, leaving my heart aching.
“‘Mother!’ I cried. ‘Come back! Why do you go away from me? Why does Persephone, that grim queen, not give you form that our arms might hold each other one last time?’
So she spoke. My mind was torn, but I wanted to embrace the spirit of my dead mother. Three times I reached for her, with my heart eager to embrace her, and three times she slipped out of my arms like a shadow or a dream. Each time the grief grew sharper in my heart, and I spoke winged words to her: “Mother, why will you not stay for me to embrace you, when that is my desire – so that even in the house of Hades we can throw our arms around each other and both have our pleasure in the pain of tears? Or is this some phantom that queen Persephone is sending me, to make yet more pain and weeping for me?”
“So she spoke, and I wondered in my heart how I might clasp the ghost of my dead mother. Three times I sprang toward her, and my will said, ‘Clasp her,’ and three times she flitted from my arms like a shadow or a dream. As for me, the pain grew ever sharper in my heart, and I spoke and addressed her with winged words:
“‘My mother, why do you not stay for me when I wish to clasp you, so that even in the house of Hades we two may throw our arms about each other and take our fill of chill lamenting. Is this some phantom that august Persephone has sent me so that I may lament and groan still more?’
So she spoke. I wanted, deliberating in my mind, to hold the ghost of my dead mother. Three times I started towards her, my spirit telling me to hold her, and three times she flew from my hands like a shadow, or rather a dream. In my heart the sharp pang of grief grew more, and I spoke to her with these winged words: ‘My mother, why do you not wait for me who long to hold you, so that even in Hades we may put our arms around each other and both take our pleasure in chill lamentation? Or has proud Persephone sent me this spectre for me to lament and weep even more?’
‘These were my mother’s words. Without knowing whether I could, I yearned to embrace her spirit, dead though she was. Three times, in my eagerness to clasp her to me, I started forward. Three times, like a shadow or a dream, she slipped through my hands and left me pierced by an even sharper pain.
‘“Mother!” I cried with words that winged their way to her. “Why do you not wait for me? I long to reach you, so that even in Hell we may throw our loving arms round each other and draw cold comfort from our tears. Or is this a mere phantom that august Persephone has sent me to increase my grief?”
‘Such was her tale; my mind was full, and I longed to embrace my dead mother’s ghost; three times did I spring forward to her, for the will to clasp her was strong in me; three times she vanished between my arms, like a fleeting shadow, a fleeting dream. Each time keen anguish went through my heart, and my words came forth in rapid flight:
“Mother, why will you not wait for me? I long to clasp you, so that even in this house of Hades we may throw loving arms about each other and have our fill of bitter weeping. Or is this some wraith that august Persephone has sent me to increase my sorrowing and my tears?”
“Thus she spoke and, as I pondered in my heart, I felt a longing to clasp the soul of my departed mother. Three times I rushed towards her, as my heart urged me to embrace her, and three times, like a shadow or even a dream, she eluded my arms. The painful grief in my heart waxed greater and, raising my voice, I spoke to her winged words:
“‘My mother, why do you not stay fixed for me, eager as I am to clasp you, so that, with my loving arms around you, we may both even here in Hades indulge ourselves without restraint in chilling lamentation. Is this some wraith which nobly-born Persephoneia sent up that I might wail and groan the more?’
‘As my mother spoke, there came to me out of the confusion in my heart the one desire, to embrace her spirit, dead though she was. Thrice, in my eagerness to clasp her to me, I started forward with my hands outstretched. Thrice, like a shadow or a dream, she slipped through my arms and left me harrowed by an even sharper pain.
‘“Mother,” I cried in my despair, “why do you avoid me when I try to reach you, so that even in Hell we may throw our loving arms around each other’s necks and draw cold comfort from our tears? Or is this a mere phantom that grim Persephone has sent me to accentuate my grief?”
“When I heard this, I longed to throw my arms round her neck. Three times I tried to embrace the ghost, three times it slipt through my hands like a shadow or a dream. A sharp pang pierced my heart, and I cried out straight from my heart to hers:
“‘Mother dear! Why don’t you stay with me when I long to embrace you? Let us relieve our hearts, and have a good cry in each other’s arms. Are you only a phantom which awful Persephoneia has sent to make me more unhappy than ever?’
‘She ceased her say. While my heart pondered the word a longing rose in me to take in my arms this spirit of my mother, though she were dead. Thrice I stepped toward her for an embrace, and thrice she slipped through my grasp like a shadow or a dream. The pain conceived in my heart grew very bitter and I cried to her in piercing words: ‘
‘Mother mine, can you not abide the loving arms of one who yearns so sorely after you, that here, even here in Hades, we may tearfully sate ourselves with icy shuddering grief? Or are you only some phantasm which great Persephone has sent to increase the misery of my pain?’
“When she said this, though my mind shrank from it, I yearned to embrace even the spirit of my dead mother. Three times the impulse came to clasp her form. Three times, like a shadow, or even like a dream, she flitted from my arms, and the sharp grief in my heart grew but keener.
“‘My own mother,’ I said earnestly, ‘why do you not stay for me as I long to embrace you, so that even in the house of Hades we may throw our arms about each other and sate ourselves with chilling grief? Or is this only a phantom that noble Persephone has sent to make me weep and sorrow but the more?’
“So she spake, and, albeit I doubted, I sought to take hold of my dead mother’s spirit. Three times I ran towards her, and the desire of my heart was to take hold of her: three times she flitted from my hands like a phantom or a dream. The grief within my heart grew the more bitter, and I spake to her winged words:
“‘Dear mother, why do you not stay for me when I long to hold you, so that even in the dwelling of Hades we may together in loving embrace find comfort in chill lamenting? Is this a phantom that great Persephone has sent me that the burden of my grief may be even heavier?’
“So she spoke, and I pondered in heart, and was fain to clasp the spirit of my dead mother. Thrice I sprang towards her, and my heart bade me clasp her, and thrice she flitted from my arms like a shadow or a dream, and pain grew ever sharper at my heart. And I spoke, and addressed her with winged words:
“‘My mother, why dost thou not stay for me, who am eager to clasp thee, that even in the house of Hades we two may cast our arms each about the other, and take our fill of chill lamentating? Is this but a phantom that august Persephone has sent me, that I may lament and groan the more?’
Thrice I sprang towards her and tried to clasp her in my arms, but each time she flitted from my embrace as it were a dream or phantom, and being touched to the quick I said to her, ‘Mother, why do you not stay still when I would embrace you? If we could throw our arms around one another we might find sad comfort in the sharing of our sorrows even in the house of Hades; does Proserpine want to lay a still further load of grief upon me by mocking me with a phantom only?’
“As she thus spoke, I yearned, though my mind hesitated, to clasp the spirit of my mother, even though dead. Three times the impulse came; my heart urged me to clasp her. Three times out of my arms like a shadow or a dream she flitted, and the sharp pain about my heart grew only more; and speaking in winged words, I said:
“ ‘My mother, why not stay for me who long to clasp you, so that in the very house of Hades, throwing our arms round one another, we two may take our fill of piercing grief? Or is it a phantom high Persephone has sent, to make me weep and sorrow more?’
“So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have embraced the spirit of my mother dead. Thrice I sprang towards her, and was minded to embrace her; thrice she flitted from my hands as a shadow or even as a dream, and sharp grief arose ever at my heart. And uttering my voice I spake to her winged words:
“‘Mother mine, wherefore dost thou not abide me who am eager to clasp thee, that even in Hades we twain may cast our arms each about the other, and have our fill of chill lament? Is this but a phantom that the high goddess Persephone hath sent me, to the end that I may groan for more exceeding sorrow?’
‘Thus she spoke; but I for my part, meditating in my mind, wished to grasp the soul of my deceased mother; thrice indeed I rushed forward, and my mind urged me to grasp it, but thrice it fled from my hands, like a shadow, or even a dream: but sharp grief arose in my heart still more; and addressing her, I spoke in winged words:
‘“O my mother! why do you not now await me, being anxious to clasp you, that even in [the mansion] of Pluto, throwing round each other our dear hands, we may both be satiated with sad grief? Has the illustrious Proserpine roused up this a phantom for me, in order that I may groan lamenting still more?”
Ὡς thus εφατο she spake: αυταρ but εγωγε I on my part μερμηριζας meditating φρεσιν in my mind εθελον longed ελεειν to grasp ψυχην the soul μητρος κατατεθνειωης of my deceased mother; τρις μεν thrice εφωρμηθην I rushed forward, θυμος τε and my wind ανωγει urged με me ελεειν to grasp her, τρις δε and thrice επτατο she fled εκ χειρων μοι from my hands, εικελον like σκιη to a shadow, η και or also ονειρω to a dream: αχος δε οξυ and sharp grief γενεσκετο arose μαλλον still more εμοι κηροθι in my mind; και and φωνησας addressing μιν her προσηυδων I spoke to her επεα πτεροεντα winged words: “Μητερ εμη my mother, τι νυ why now ου μιμνεις dost thou not await με me μεμαωτα desiring ελεειν to clasp thee, οφρα that και even εν Αιδαο in [the house] of Hades, περι βαλουντε throwing around [each other] φιλας χειρε our dear hands, αμφοτερω we both τεταρπωμεσθα may be satiated κρυεροιο γοοιο with sad sorrow? Η αγανη Περσεφονεια has illustrious Proserpine ωτρυνε sent ειδωλον τι some phantom here μοι to me, οφρα that στεναχιζω I may groan οδυρομενος mourning ετι μαλλον still more?
“Thus she spoke; but I, meditating in my mind, wished to lay hold of the soul of my departed mother. Thrice indeed I essayed it, and my mind urged me to lay hold of it, but thrice it flew from my hands, like unto a shadow, or even to a dream: but sharp grief arose in my heart still more; and addressing her, I spoke winged words:
“‘Mother mine, why dost thou not remain for me, desirous to take hold of thee, that even in Hades, throwing around our dear hands, we may both be satiated with sad grief? Has illustrious Proserpine sent forth this an image for me, that I may lament still more, mourning?’
“Thus she spoke; but I, meditating in my mind, wished to lay hold of the soul of my deceased mother; three times indeed I attempted it, and my mind urged me to lay hold of it, but three times it flew from my hands, like a shadow, or even a dream: but sharp grief arose in my heart still more; and addressing her I spoke in winged words;
“‘O my mother, why do you not remain for me, who am desirous to take hold of you, that even in Orcus, throwing around our dear hands, we may both be satiated with sad grief? Has the illustrious Proserpine excited this an image for me, that I may lament still more, mourning?’