you are vicious,
         my medea,
and your only fault was
trusting too quickly,
loving with too full a heart.

was it really a fault, though?
         loving jason, it freed you:
you have felled kings.
would you have had the chance
if it were not for his helplessness?

because all his strength
         his courage,
         his fame,
it came from you, my medea.
“mon art faisait ta force,” you say,
angry, ruined.
you are the only hero here.