I believe — the truth is with me,
The opponent thinks it is with him,
In disputes one cannot avoid pain,
The threat of one’s own becoming a stranger.

I regret the quarrel,
And so I propose:
“Socrates
Is my brother,
And the truth is beyond the door.
Come, without fatal losses
Let us go to it at once.”

He resists, asking is in vain.
Then perhaps in patience the hostility will vanish,
When the truth itself in time
Will RECONCILE us — will come out to meet us.