The dikasts had cast their votes,
and their votes had sealed my fate.
I serve as scapegoat for my city,
which has been in decline of late.

Banishment would have been death,
a lingering one for me.
So I managed to persuade them
to vote for the death penalty.

So now friends I become
a Hemlock connoisseur.
Others favor wines and liquors
but my poison is more sure .

To be sure, the juice was bitter,
and I drained it down in haste.
It is not the sort of beverage
for which one acquires taste.

I am, in truth, no Democrat
and My gods were not their gods.
My constant questioning annoyed them
which is why we were at odds.

The chill has reached my *****
and soon now I will sleep.
but one thing on my mind
requires that I speak:.

“Crito, we owe a ****,
to Asclepius,.
Make sure it is paid
please do not neglect it.”

I cover my face over
as my heart slows and stops.
A mystic fog envelopes me
as the boatman’s ship departs.