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When the twins were born – it was hard, I lay in Arisbe’s cave, once I cried out to the goddess: ‘Cybele, help!’ – they had many mothers. And Aeneas was their father.
I have experienced everything a person must experience.
I have experienced everything a person must experience.
The war, a wounded dragon incapable of further movement, lay heavy and faint over our city. The next move it made was bound to dash us to pieces. Abruptly, from one moment to the next, our sun could set. Lovingly and exactingly we followed its course on each of our days, for they were numbered. It amazed me to see that different though we all were, the women by the Scamander felt without exception that we were testing something, and that it was not a question of how much time we had. Nor of whether we could convince the majority of Trojans, who of course remained in the dismal city. We did not see ourselves as an example. We were grateful that we were the ones granted the highest privilege there is: to slip a narrow strip of future into the grim present, which occupies all of time.
Anchises, I believe, loved our life in the caves wholeheartedly, loved it without reservation, sadness, and scruple. He was fulfilling a dream of his and was teaching us younger ones how to dream with both feet on the ground.
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