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wildestrangerToday I have for you a different Latin poet; Catullus, best known for some delightfully scurrilous verse. This poem is not one of those, but rather one about the perils of friendship. Specifically, when your friend sends you some truly terrible poetry, and you want to make sure that he never does that again while also not offending your friend. Well, Catullus is not too bothered about the latter, but he is really keen on the former. I do like a good insulter.
Catullus, XIV
Ni te plus oculis meis amarem,
iucundissime Cave, munere isto
odissem te odio Vatiniano.
nam quid feci ego quidue sum locutus
cur me tot male perderes poetis?
isti Di mala multa dent clienti
qui tantum tibi misit impiorum.
quod si, ut suspicor, hoc novum ac repertum
munus dat tibi Sulla litterator,
non est mi male sed bene ac beate
quod non dispereunt tui labores.
di magni, horribilem et sacrum libellum!
quem tu scilicet ad tuum Catullum
misti continue ut die periret
Saturnalibus, optimo dierum!
non, non hoc tibi, salse, sic abibit.
nam si luxerit, ad librariorum
curram scrinia; Caesios, Aquinos,
Suffenum, omnia colligam venena,
ac te his suppliciis remunerabor.
vos hinc interea valete abite
illuc unde malum pedem attulistis,
saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae.
Did I not love you more than my eyes,
Calvus you joker, then for that gift
I’d hate you with Vatinian hatred.
What have I done to you or said
That you should pip me with all these poets?
May Gods bring curses on the client
Who sent you such profanities.
And if, as I suspect, this choice new
Gift to you is from schoolmaster Sulla,
Then I’m not sorry but delighted
That your hard work has not been wasted.
Great Gods, a damned awful little book
For you to send to your Catullus
To kill him outright on that day
Of all days best – the Saturnalia.
No, you won’t get away with it,
Clever dick. When it’s dawn I’ll run
To the bookstalls, pick up all the poison –
Suffenus, Caesius and Aquinus –
And pay you back with pains like them.
Meanwhile goodbye, be off with you,
Back where you brought your faulty feet from,
Curse of our time, appalling poets!
Trans. by Guy Lee
Catullus, XIV
Ni te plus oculis meis amarem,
iucundissime Cave, munere isto
odissem te odio Vatiniano.
nam quid feci ego quidue sum locutus
cur me tot male perderes poetis?
isti Di mala multa dent clienti
qui tantum tibi misit impiorum.
quod si, ut suspicor, hoc novum ac repertum
munus dat tibi Sulla litterator,
non est mi male sed bene ac beate
quod non dispereunt tui labores.
di magni, horribilem et sacrum libellum!
quem tu scilicet ad tuum Catullum
misti continue ut die periret
Saturnalibus, optimo dierum!
non, non hoc tibi, salse, sic abibit.
nam si luxerit, ad librariorum
curram scrinia; Caesios, Aquinos,
Suffenum, omnia colligam venena,
ac te his suppliciis remunerabor.
vos hinc interea valete abite
illuc unde malum pedem attulistis,
saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae.
Did I not love you more than my eyes,
Calvus you joker, then for that gift
I’d hate you with Vatinian hatred.
What have I done to you or said
That you should pip me with all these poets?
May Gods bring curses on the client
Who sent you such profanities.
And if, as I suspect, this choice new
Gift to you is from schoolmaster Sulla,
Then I’m not sorry but delighted
That your hard work has not been wasted.
Great Gods, a damned awful little book
For you to send to your Catullus
To kill him outright on that day
Of all days best – the Saturnalia.
No, you won’t get away with it,
Clever dick. When it’s dawn I’ll run
To the bookstalls, pick up all the poison –
Suffenus, Caesius and Aquinus –
And pay you back with pains like them.
Meanwhile goodbye, be off with you,
Back where you brought your faulty feet from,
Curse of our time, appalling poets!
Trans. by Guy Lee
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Date: 2016-04-21 11:24 pm (UTC)