Why not wet our wings with wine, Sirius
is coming on, the dog days are upon us,
streets and alleys warping in the swelter,
cicadas in acacia trees, artichokes in flower.
For now it begins, the drawn-out quarrel
that, mounted in the blood, makes young girls
turn lascivious, and men stand stunned
scalded by the light of the midday sun.
-Alcaeus, translated by Sherod Santos. From Greek Lyric Poetry