I weep for Carthage, lost to me,
The city of the wine-dark sea.
Victim of a cruel assault,
Burned alive and sewn with salt.
This city I shall never see,
In vivid dreams it calls to me.
The double harbor, the sweeping oar,
The waves upon the Punic shore.
Carthage, bold in thought and deed,
Paid the price for Roman greed.
They did the same to noble Greece,
The wicked lie that they called peace.
Time has passed and legends fade,
Leaving only a silent shade.
Still I wonder, now and then,
The saddest words: what might have been?