Roman poet

from Bring Roses and Cardamom by Horace

/ zdunno03 / 8 Comments

Whether we descend from the great houses,
Or drift unprotected under the naked
Sky, it’s all one; we are sacrifices
To Death, not well known for compassion.

We are obliged and herded. The lot is
Inside the urn; the ball with our number
Will roll out. And what we’ll get
Is an everlasting absence from home.

translated by Robert Bly

from The Anger Poem by Horace

/ zdunno03 / 4 Comments

Anger is what broke Thyeste’s life
And many shining cities went down brick
By brick before anger, and aggressive
Battalions ran their ploughs in great

Delight over ground covering those walls.
Calm your mind. Heat tempted
Me in my sweet early days, and sent
Me deeply mad to one-sided poems. Now

I want to replace those sour lines with
Sweet lines; now, having sworn off harsh
Attacks, I want you to become
My friend, and give me back my heart.

translated by Robert Bly

from Bring Roses and Cardamon by Horace

/ zdunno03 / Leave a comment

Whether we descend from the great houses,
Or drift unprotected under the naked
Sky, it’s all one; we are sacrifices
To death, not well known for compassion.

We are obliged and herded. The lot is
Inside the urn; the ball with our number
Will roll out. And what we’ll get
Is an everlasting absence from home.

translated by Robert Bly

from The Anger Poem by Horace

/ zdunno03 / 1 Comment

Calm your mind. Heat tempted
Me in my sweet early days, and sent
Me deeply mad to one-sided poems. Now

I want to replace those sour lines with
Sweet lines; now, having sworn off harsh
Attacks, I want you to become
My friend, and give me back my heart.

translated by Robert Bly

from The Art of Love, Book Two by Ovid

/ zdunno03 / 6 Comments

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