The dead poet friend - Callimachus

They told me, Heracleitus, they told me you were dead; 

They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. 

I wept as I remembered, how often you and I 

Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. 

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, 

A handful of gray ashes, long, long ago at rest. 

Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake. 

For Death he taketh all away, but these he cannot take.  

---

Callimachus (c. 310 - 240 BC) Egypt (born in Libya)

Translated by  W. Cory

Source: The world's best poetry. Editor: Bliss Carman, John D. Morris & Company,