Simonides' poem reconstructed
Truly becoming good is hard for a man,
Standing four-square with hands and feet and mind,
Fashioned beyond reproach.
(Missing lines)
It strikes a wrong note,
That saying of Pittacus – though wise the man
Who spoke it – ‘Being good,’ he said, ‘is hard.’
Only a god can have this privilege.
He cannot but be bad, a man, when once
Helpless disaster brings him down.
For any man is good when things go well,
But bad when they go ill.
Best for the longest time are they – whom the gods love.
I will not cast my life's portion away
In hopeless quest for what can never be –
A man who's blameless among those who reap
The broad earth's harvest.
Should I find one,
I'll bring you word.
All those who do no shameful action willingly
I praise and love.
Against necessity not even gods can fight.
(Missing lines)
Enough, for me,
A man who is not bad, not wholly useless,
A sound and healthy man, one who well knows
Justice, the city's profit, I will not
Blame him.
The tribe of fools is numberless –
All things are fair wherein no foul is mixed.