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Neighed their heat at the sky and struck the gates with their hooves.The horses felt their freedom — and bolted from the eternal ruts, carrying off the Sun,Phaethon the Radiant grew pale, and his knees trembled with sudden fear,He knew not where he was, nor where he was heading —Swept away by the force of the fiery horses, wrapped in thick smoke.

A great part of the sky was already behind him, a greater still before his eyes,He looked toward the west he would not reach, and toward the east he had passed.Athos burns, Taurus burns, Etna burns with redoubled flames,The Alps, the Apennines, the Caucasus are ablaze, and Olympus, greater than them all.Then he saw the Scorpion — a monster stretched across two Stars of Heaven,Its pincers bent in a double arc, tail and arms flung wide across the void,Dripping with black venom, threatening with its curved sting —An icy dread stole his senses, and the reins fell from his hands.Half-burned, Phaethon the Radiant plunged, pierced by a blazing thunderbolt,From his father’s chariot into the depths of the sea, into the churning swell,And to this day the sea drives a heavy vapour skyward from the burning wound.

The daughters of Helios, Phaethusa the Shining and Lampetia the Luminous,Transformed into slender poplars, shed vain tears without respite,Clear drops from their weeping boughs fall as amber into the depths of the seas.

Anastasiya of the rosy fingers, born after the ages, took up a great piece of amber,It glowed in her palm, it breathed with life; she heard the neighing of a steed, Eous the Shining,From memory she summoned the faces of the goddesses, Phaethusa the Shining and Lampetia the Luminous,And the Sunken Heart — which she held in her hand — she painted,Kamil the amber-smith, intricate master of resin, adorned the goddesses’ faces with their own tears.