Mamia
whose schola tomb
is at the Herculaneum Gate
I am sitting
resting where you rest
I am lost lost somewhere in Villa of Mysteries
a myrtle wreath adorns me
I carry a laurel sprig and sacramental cakes
I am a Maenad
Dionysus will save me
I am of the clan
I have danced
with my sisters in the Villa
and on the mountain
Now I am too tired to go further
Vesuvius has turned my veil
to a brides red
my dress to red
and the dry grey
hot rain
falls
