| ODES - BOOK 1 - XIII | ODES - BOOK 1 - XIII |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | tr. W.G.Shepherd |
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Cum tu, Lydia, Telephi cervicem roseam, cerea Telephi laudas bracchia, vae meum fervens difficili bile tumet iecur. tum nec mens mihi nec color certa sede manent, umor et in genas furtim labitur, arguens quam lentis penitus macerer ignibus. uror, seu tibi candidos turparunt umeros immodicae mero rixae, sive puer furens impressit memorem dente labris notam. non, si me satis audias, speres perpetuum dulcia barbare laedentem oscula quae Venus quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit. felices ter et amplius quos irrupta tenet copula nec malis divulsus querimoniis suprema citius solvet amor die. |
Lydia, when you praise Telephus' rosy neck or Telephus' wax-white arms, alas, my simmering liver swells with crotchety bile; nor my mind nor complexion are true to their nature, and stealthy tears on my cheeks are symptoms of inward maceration above slow fires; and if some violent, drunken row has marked your snowy shoulders or the ravening boy has stamped a memento on your lips with his teeth, I am charred. You may not, let me tell you, expect fidelity of the savage who injures that delicious mouth which Venus has imbued with the essence of her nectar. Thrice happy the couple who are not torn apart by quarrels but are held in a bond of unbroken love which only death dissolves. |
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Transl. Copyright © W.G.Shepherd 1983 - publ. Penguin Classics
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