The oath of the Gods, this day was fulfilled
In the heat of the battle, Hector was killed
See him Patroclus, down in the dust
Rejoice in his death, my symbol of trust
A dozen highborn youths, have been killed
Cutting their throats, their blood was all spilled
Their bodies set, at the foot of your fire
With oxen, sheep and two of your hounds
Your funeral pyre, high off the ground
Hector's body, dragged three times around
I will carry the torch, to your funeral pyre
I will ask of the wind, to send high your fire
Hector's blood will not be washed from my body
Until your body is burned
A prophecy spoken, a promise fulfilled
More blood will be spilled, more will be killed