Her soul is all vertigo.
‘And I bathe my eyes,’ she tells us,
‘in rivers of tears…Alas for the waves’ of her life,
‘alas for the revolutions.’ Sorrow burns her
‘to the bones and the marrow and the splitting’ of her soul.
But the truth seems to be this power-hungry woman
knew only one sorrow that really mattered;
even if she doesn’t admit it, this arrogant Greek woman
had only one consuming pain:
that with all her dexterity,
she never managed to gain the throne,
virtually snatched out of her hands by impudent John.
Her soul is dizzy. ‘And with rivers
of tears,’ she tells us ‘I wet
my eyes… Alas for the waves’ in her life,
‘alas for the revolts.’ Pain burns her
‘to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul.’
But it seems the truth is, that this ambitious woman
knew only one great sorrow;
she only had one deep longing
(though she does not admit it) this haughty Greek woman,
that she was never able, despite all her dexterity,
to acquire the Kingship; but it was taken
almost out of her hands by the insolent John.