For the time spend under siege Troy won’t abandon
It’s position of a citadel outstanding,
But the Trojans disbelieved the seer Cassandra,
Otherwise, it’s likely Troy might still be standing.

The crazy maiden never stopped her screams and hollers.
"I see Troy fallen to the dust!" she yelled in rage.
Yet the clairvoyants, in addition to beholders,
Were burning at the stake in every place and age.

And on the night, when from the wooden horse’s venter
The Death descended, as it should be, on her wingtips,
Above the slaughtered crowd of the vindictive madmen
A sudden cry burst out: "It is this witch who’s guilty!"

The crazy maiden never stopped her screams and hollers.
"I see Troy fallen to the dust!" she yelled in rage.
Yet the clairvoyants, in addition to beholders,
Were burning at the stake in every place and age.

And on this night, and in this blood, in this confusion,
When all foretellings had come true with flying colors,
The crowd could find the perfect moment and solution
To swiftly carry out its usual reprisals.

The crazy maiden never stopped her screams and hollers.
"I see Troy fallen to the dust!" she yelled in rage.
Yet the clairvoyants, in addition to beholders,
Were burning at the stake in every place and age.

The end is quite unfortunate, although not tragic,
A certain Greek had found the shrine of the predictor,
And started using her not as the great Cassandra,
but as a prize of an insatiable young victor.

The crazy maiden never stopped her screams and hollers.
"I see Troy fallen to the dust!" she yelled in rage.
Yet the clairvoyants, in addition to beholders,
Were burning at the stake in every place and age.