Classic Poem

O barbarous Corsica, locked in by crags,
Rugged and vast where endless deserts stretch,
Fall brings no fruit, and summertime no crops,
No Attic olives bend the winter's branch;
From rainy spring no new births lure a smile,
And no grass grows on this ill-omened earth;
No bread, no taste of water, no fire in hearth:
Only two things—the exiled and exile.