human
Whither now, my son unhappy, Canst thou flee, unhappy creature, Go to hide thee from destruction, Flying from thy wicked action, 180 Lest thy wretched head be captured, And thy handsome neck be severed, That thy hair remain uninjured, Nor thy glossy hair downtrodden?
gpt
No such refuge do I know of, Where a safe retreat awaits me, Where I from my crime can hide me. O my mother who hast borne me, Where do you advise my hiding?