iam claustra rigentis Aeoliae percussa sonant, venturaque rauco ore minatur hiems, venti transuersa frementes confligunt axemque emoto cardine vellunt, dum caelum sibi quisque rapit; sed plurimus Auster inglomerat noctem, tenebrosa volumina torquens, defunditque imbres sicco quos asper hiatu praesolidat Boreas; nec non abrupta tremescunt fulgura, et attritus subita face rumpitur aether.
Now the dungeons of icy Aeolia sound with buffets and a coming storm hoarsely threatens. The winds roar across each other and colliding pluck at the arch of heaven, dislocating the hinges, as each snatches the sky for himself. But Auster most of all concentrates the night, hurling convoluted murk and pouring down rain that harsh Boreas with his dry mouth makes solid before it falls. Quivering lightnings burst out, the chafed air is broken by sudden flashes.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book1.json