from The Art of Love, Book Two by Ovid

Leonard Durso

Why should I always be torn from the desire of my heart?
Yet you have sworn you would be my companion, always beside me;
That you swore by the stars, or by the light of your eyes.
Woman’s words are as light as the doomed leaves whirling in autumn,
Easily swept by the wind, easily drowned by the wave.
If there is still in your heart some feeling of faith toward a lost man,
Add to the promise you made something by way of a deed.
Soon as you can, shake the reins over the manes of your ponies,
Whirl the light car along, swiftly as ever you can,
And wherever she comes, O hills, sink low for her passing,
O be easy to ride, winding roads in the vales!

translated by Rolfe Humphries

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