I call upon the Muses of Helicon, the holy daughters of Zeus,
You sit in the immortal palace on the top of the mountain, gazing at the city-state protected by Athena.
Like a moss-covered warship, it trembles in the arms of Poseidon,
No one looked up into the distance, just fighting in fear and delusion.
I will not sing of the wrath of Achilles, nor of the cunningness of Odysseus,
I wish you could blow words into my heart to lament the lonely helmsman