iCarmina

Ares spares cowards

Anacreon — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 18:17:00 +0000

Here rests Timocritus, valiant in war;
Ares spares cowards, not heroes.

Random

Giuseppe Peronato — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 08:39:32 +0000

As you have probably noticed, I have no published any new poems for a couple of months. I am sorry but I don’t have enough time to choose, translate and comment a poem a day anymore, as I am quite busy with University. So I have decided to show random poems fro the iCarmina archive. If you are interested in contributing to iCarmina, please contact me. Chaire

To whom do I dedicate this charming slim volume

Catullus — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 22:00:47 +0000

To whom do I dedicate this charming slim volume,
just now polished with dry pumice stone?
To you Cornelius, for you were accustomed to think
that my scribblings were something.
When already at the same time, you, only Italian,
dared to explain the whole history in three scrolls,
learned, by Jupiter, and weighty!
Hence have it for yourself whatever this little book is,
and whatever you like, so that, oh patron maiden,
may it last for more than one longlasting age.

Eros shook my soul

Sappho — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 22:00:45 +0000

Eros shook my soul like the wind
attacking trees on a mountain.

[translated by Peter Saint-Andre]

Deathless Aphrodite

Sappho — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 22:00:58 +0000

Deathless Aphrodite on your lavish throne,
Enchantress, daughter of Zeus: I beg you, queen,
Do not overpower my soul with heartaches
and hard troubles,

But come here, if ever at another time
Having heard my voice you paid me attention
And leaving the golden house of your father
you came to me,

Yoking your horse and chariot: gorgeous swift
Sparrows carried you over the coal-black earth,
Thickly whirling their feathers through the midst of
heaven’s ether.

Swiftly they arrived, and you, O blessed one,
Smiling with your immortal face, you asked for
What I suffered, and why again I call you
And what in my maddened soul I desire most
To happen to me: what dearest one shall I now
Persuade to lead you back to her — who, O Sappho,
wronged you this time?

For even if she flees, swiftly she will pursue;
And if she does not receive my gifts, she will give;
And if she does not love me, swiftly she will love,
Even against her will. So come to my aid now,
Release me from my grievous cares, fulfill as much
As my heart yearns to be fulfilled: come, be my
fellow-fighter.

[translation by Peter Saint-Andre]

The rabbit isn’t cooked

Martial — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 22:00:24 +0000

You say that the rabbit isn’t cooked, and ask for the whip;
Rufus, you prefer to carve up your cook than your rabbit.

I love and yet I do not love

Anacreon — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 22:00:35 +0000

I love and yet I do not love
I am crazy and I am not crazy

Pluck the day

Horace — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 22:00:12 +0000

Don’t seek, my friend, we cannot say
what end’s in store for you, for me:
don’t trust in vague astrology.
Better to shoulder what will be,
whether you soon will die, or stay
to watch the shore exhaust the sea.
So drink some wine while your hours flee,
put small trust in posterity,
and prune your hopes — but pluck the day.

[translation by Peter Saint-Andre]

I am not really keen to wish to please you, Caesar

Catullus — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 22:00:41 +0000

I am not really keen to wish to please you, Caesar,
Nor to know whether you are black or white.

I am a servant of Ares

Archilochus — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 22:00:01 +0000

I am a servant of my Lord Ares,
but I also know well the lovely gift of the Muses