Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
Jack3000
girlfriend and I need a translation of the following phrase:
"forged from the mighty oak, this(the) ring is valued more than any
costly adornment"
Thanks in advance!!
p.s. I'm not giving her a wooden ring. It's just a metaphor. :-)
Daniel Hoehr
Jack3000 wrote:
> I was hoping someone can help me out. I'm making a gift for my
> girlfriend and I need a translation of the following phrase:
>
> "forged from the mighty oak, this(the) ring is valued more than any
> costly adornment"
Hic anulus procusus a robure potente est maioris pretii quam ullum
carum ornamentum.
> Thanks in advance!!
Thank you for the additional participle exercise!
> p.s. I'm not giving her a wooden ring. It's just a metaphor. :-)
Ibi eram, illud feci....... anulus autem aureus erat.
DH
--
"Littera gesta docet, quid credas allegoria,
Moralis quid agas, quo tendas anagogia."
Daniel Hoehr
Daniel Hoehr wrote:
>
> Jack3000 wrote:
>
>> I was hoping someone can help me out. I'm making a gift for my
>> girlfriend and I need a translation of the following phrase:
>>
>> "forged from the mighty oak, this(the) ring is valued more than any
>> costly adornment"
>
> Hic anulus procusus a robure potente est maioris pretii quam ullum carum
> ornamentum.
On second thoughts, change "_a_ robure" to "_e_ robure", since the
ring was not forged _by_ the oak but rather _from_ it.
On third thoughts, I'm sure that the more experienced Latinists on
this group will come up with a better translation.
Cheers,
DH
bob
> From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
> Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
> Date: Sun, 09 May 2004 09:20:35 +0200
> Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>
>> p.s. I'm not giving her a wooden ring. It's just a metaphor. :-)
>
> Ibi eram, illud feci....... anulus autem aureus erat.
It's a mixed metaphor: poor form, poor logic. Rings are carved, whittled,
etc. out of oak, not forged.
If the ring is of gold, your metaphor should reflect that. Consider the old
saying of Agrippa Von Nettesheim: "Aurum nostrum non est aurum vulgi."
Bob
Jack3000
Thanks in advance!!!!
Rolleston
>Thanks. I thought the word "ring" was "anulus" in latin. Is this not so?
"anulus" is one word for "ring".
Why do you ask?
R.
Daniel Hoehr
Jack3000 wrote:
> Thanks. I thought the word "ring" was "anulus" in latin. Is this not so?
Yes, that's why I wrote "Hic anulus........."
> Thanks in advance!!!!
DH
Jack3000
oh yes, I see now. I guess I was confused because I thought the word
"ring" would come in the middle of the sentence, like how I originally
constructed the senetence.
I know nothing about latin grammer, but is there no way to construct
the sentence similiar to how I did? The reason why I ask is because
I'd like to place the sentence in two different parts of the gift I am
making, and how I constructed the sentence that would be easily
possible.
Thanks so much for your hard work. I appreciate it!!!!
Daniel Hoehr
Well, I suppose one could put the participle phrase ("procusus e
robure potente" -- "forged from the oak mighty" -- the adjective
follows the noun) in front, then the subject ("hic anulus" -- "this
ring") and then the rest:
Procusus e robure potente hic anulus est maioris pretii quam ullum
carum ornamentum.
That reflects the English word order and I think this should be
acceptable in Latin too, although, having read Bob's reply, I'm not
really happy with the phrase "forged from the mighty oak" (neither in
English nor in Latin....), but it seems to mean something to both you
and your girlfriend.
> Thanks so much for your hard work. I appreciate it!!!!
My pleasure. It's good practice and hence appreciated by me.
Good luck with the ring and your girlfriend!
Daniel Hoehr
Daniel Hoehr wrote:
> Procusus e robure potente hic anulus est maioris pretii quam ullum carum
> ornamentum.
ACHTUNG: it's "robore" and not "robure" (robur, roboris, n)!!!!
Sorry!
Daniel Hoehr
bob wrote:
>
>>From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
>>Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
>>Date: Sun, 09 May 2004 09:20:35 +0200
>>Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>>
>>
>>>p.s. I'm not giving her a wooden ring. It's just a metaphor. :-)
>>
>>Ibi eram, illud feci....... anulus autem aureus erat.
>
>
> It's a mixed metaphor: poor form, poor logic. Rings are carved, whittled,
> etc. out of oak, not forged.
True, yes. But I suppose Jack's metaphor means something to him and
his girlfriend. And I'm the last one who should give advice on
girlfriends, rings, metaphors and the consequences :-/
> If the ring is of gold, your metaphor should reflect that. Consider the old
> saying of Agrippa Von Nettesheim: "Aurum nostrum non est aurum vulgi."
Yes, but it seems Jack wants to include the oak somewhere. What about:
Procusus e robore aureo potente hic anulus est maioris pretii quam
ullum carum ornamentum.
Is it possible to stick two adjectives like that after one another? Or
would "aureo potenteque" be better? Maybe "potente aureoque"? "aureo
robore potente"?
Next question: Does Latin have a certain order of adjectives like English?
> Bob
bob
> From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
> Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
> Date: Mon, 10 May 2004 20:54:49 +0200
> Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>
> True, yes. But I suppose Jack's metaphor means something to him and
> his girlfriend. And I'm the last one who should give advice on
> girlfriends, rings, metaphors and the consequences :-/
I would hardly proffer anything beyond the simplest, most pedestrian and
prosaic advice on love. Nonetheless, it is worth saying that love, rather
than an excuse for sloppy language, poor metaphor, or what used to be termed
a 'pathetic fallacy', should be both an inspiration and an exhortation to
excellence.
If we are to believe Plato, especially as he offers the example of the
Sacred Band, love demands, inspires, and elicits excellence. A lover, lest
he/she be dishonored before the beloved, will refrain from base, ignoble, or
otherwise incorrect acts and/or behavior. We have the testimony of a
personnage none other than Philip of Macedon to confirm that this was a
realistic, not an idealized standard: after Chaeronea, when he inspected the
dead on the field of victory, he supposedly wept at the spectacle of the
fallen Thebans, and remarked that all their wounds were 'honorable' (i.e.,
none were cut down in flight.
The terms of a metaphor, it would seem, are somewhat less exacting, and the
lady, as it might be, should be deserving of greater mental exertion. While
her knight errant might not have to strike a challenge the hanging shield of
a miscreant or do battle with ogres or boors, he must, out of love for his
lady, avoid malfeasance, churlishness, and boorishness, or else never shall
he "...win the fort which ladies hold in sovereign dread."
> Is it possible to stick two adjectives like that after one another? Or
> would "aureo potenteque" be better? Maybe "potente aureoque"? "aureo
> robore potente"?
Yes. It is a rhetorical device, akin to zeugma or hendiadys, affecting
sense, and most often encountered not with adjectives but with substantives.
> Next question: Does Latin have a certain order of adjectives like English?
Yes: see Gildersleeve 289-291.
Let it not be said of slovenly Jack, as Spenser said of his Saracen, that
"ne'er could he win the fort..."
Bob
Jack3000
to fix the metaphore while keeping the basic meaning then I'm all
ears.
Daniel, thanks for the help! I really appreciate it!!!
Daniel Hoehr
Jack3000 wrote:
> Dude, I'm not sure if you're insulting me but if you have any advice
> to fix the metaphore while keeping the basic meaning then I'm all
> ears.
Bob is not insulting you, he's complaining about the quality of the
metaphore.
> Daniel, thanks for the help! I really appreciate it!!!
My pleasure, Jack.
Daniel Hoehr
bob wrote:
>
>>From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
>>Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
>>Date: Mon, 10 May 2004 20:54:49 +0200
>>Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>>
>>True, yes. But I suppose Jack's metaphor means something to him and
>>his girlfriend. And I'm the last one who should give advice on
>>girlfriends, rings, metaphors and the consequences :-/
>
> I would hardly proffer anything beyond the simplest, most pedestrian and
> prosaic advice on love. Nonetheless, it is worth saying that love, rather
> than an excuse for sloppy language, poor metaphor, or what used to be termed
> a 'pathetic fallacy', should be both an inspiration and an exhortation to
> excellence.
I absolutely agree, Bob. This is now going. to be off-topic, but what
comes spntaneously to mind is the first sonnet of Sydney's _Astrophil
and Stella_ as well as Benedick's adventure as a sonnet writer in
Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_.
Yet, alas, in those examples the use of verse and metaphor -- or
misuse thereof -- is part of the wooing, which in Jack's case it is
not. Would Astrophil seek "fit words to paint the blackest face of
woe", "turn others' leaves to see if thence would flow / Some fresh
and fruitfull showers upon [his] sunne-burn'd braine", would be bite
his "trewand pen, beating [him] selfe for spite" for his *girlfriend*?
> If we are to believe Plato, especially as he offers the example of the
> Sacred Band, love demands, inspires, and elicits excellence. A lover, lest
> he/she be dishonored before the beloved, will refrain from base, ignoble, or
> otherwise incorrect acts and/or behavior. We have the testimony of a
> personnage none other than Philip of Macedon to confirm that this was a
> realistic, not an idealized standard: after Chaeronea, when he inspected the
> dead on the field of victory, he supposedly wept at the spectacle of the
> fallen Thebans, and remarked that all their wounds were 'honorable' (i.e.,
> none were cut down in flight.
>
> The terms of a metaphor, it would seem, are somewhat less exacting, and the
> lady, as it might be, should be deserving of greater mental exertion. While
> her knight errant might not have to strike a challenge the hanging shield of
> a miscreant or do battle with ogres or boors, he must, out of love for his
> lady, avoid malfeasance, churlishness, and boorishness, or else never shall
> he "...win the fort which ladies hold in sovereign dread."
Yet whence does excellency come? Astrophil's Muse advises him, whom
she calls "Foole", to "looke in thy heart and write." And therein lies
excellency if the heart is fill'd with true and honest love.
>>Is it possible to stick two adjectives like that after one another? Or
>>would "aureo potenteque" be better? Maybe "potente aureoque"? "aureo
>>robore potente"?
>
> Yes. It is a rhetorical device, akin to zeugma or hendiadys, affecting
> sense, and most often encountered not with adjectives but with substantives.
OK. Thanks.
>>Next question: Does Latin have a certain order of adjectives like English?
>
> Yes: see Gildersleeve 289-291.
I'm not familiar with Gildersleeve. What's the complete title of the book?
> Let it not be said of slovenly Jack, as Spenser said of his Saracen, that
> "ne'er could he win the fort..."
>
> Bob
DH
Johannes Patruus
"Daniel Hoehr" <dho...@myrealbox.com> wrote in message
news:2gbk39...@uni-berlin.de...
> I'm not familiar with Gildersleeve. What's the complete title of the
book?
It's the "ultimate" Latin grammar in English (more ultimate even than
A&G). I sometimes refer to it as "G&L" (Gildersleeve & Lodge).
@amazon.de: http://tinyurl.com/2lcoz
Johannes
Daniel Hoehr
Ordered! Thanks.
> Johannes
bob
Abhinc sex diebus hanc epistulam scripseram, sed non miseram. Post quattuor
vel quinque dies non dare constitui. Sed tua epistula de Viato accepto
aliter constitui. Meam igitur, quaeso, epistulam legas.
> From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
> Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
> Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 10:25:24 +0200
> Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>
> Would Astrophil seek "fit words to paint the blackest face of
> woe", "turn others' leaves to see if thence would flow / Some fresh
> and fruitfull showers upon [his] sunne-burn'd braine", would be bite
> his "trewand pen, beating [him] selfe for spite" for his *girlfriend*?
Lucius lter Danieli s.p.d.
Gratias plurimas tibi ago, optime Daniel, hos ob versiculos Astrophili
nostri cui sua Stella erat aster verum cuius lumen erat et iam est ignis
inventionis artisque poeticae. Nulla ratione est ut veteres poetae dixissent
esse eos qui faciant (anglice 'makers' vel, ut cecinerant vates Scotorum
mediaevales, 'makaris'), atque hoc carmen Philippi Sidney, quamvis suam
dominam Stellam, quae in animo luceat, celebret, per dominae commemorationem
artem poeticam inventione naturaeque studio quae illam artem gignunt etiam
celebrat.
> would be bite
> his "trewand pen, beating [him] selfe for spite" for his *girlfriend*?
Mihi non est dubium quin Astrophil, qui philosophiam neoplatonicam coluerit,
calamum mordeat ut, veluti deus creationis se contemplavit ad naturam
faciendam, in se aspiciat ut per contemplationem Stellae amatae
philosophicaeque naturam dei creatam imitetur ad similitudinem imaginis
divinae poeticam faciendam. Etenim nomen Astrophil, quod ex lingua Graeca
oritur, illud distichon Platonis praeclarissimum commemorat:
ASTER, PRIN MEN ELAMPES ENI ZWOISIN hEWOS,
NUN DE 8ANWN LAMPEIS hESPEROS EN F8IMENOIS.
> "turn others' leaves to see if thence would flow / Some fresh
> and fruitfull showers upon [his] sunne-burn'd braine"
Folia in lexico poetico, ut scis, sunt signa motuum, amoris, mortis,
virescentium, evanescentium, doctrinae memoriaeque. Sunt autem folia quae
pendunt de arboribus et de vitibus in hortis numerorum versuumque, ubi ludi
tragoediae comoediaeque, sub eisdem spiritus arboribus aguntur. Ut scimus
ex Hymno ad Cererem et ex Ecloga IV, hortus est hortus poetae, atque flores
enim, arbores, folia in animo et in ingenio eius crescunt. Hortus vero vatis
est hortus et ingeni et imaginationis propterea quod hunc florilegium tibi
offero quod sequitur.
annis aevoque soluti
ante gradus sacros cum starent forte locique
narrarent casus, frondrer Philomena Baucis,
Baucida conspexit senior frondere Philemon.
iamque super geminos crescente cacumine vultus
mutua, dum licuit, reddebant dicta 'vale' que
o coniunx' dixere simul, simul abdita texitora frutex...(Ov. Met. X.712-719)
vix prece finita torpor gravis occupat artus,
mollia cinguntur tenui praecordia libro,
in frondem crines, in ramos bracchia crescunt,
pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret,
ora cacumen habet: remanet nitor unus in illa.
Hanc quoque Phoebus amat positaque in stipite dextra
sentit adhuc trepidare novo sub cortice pectus
conplexusque suis ramos ut membra lacertis
oscula dat ligno: refugit tamen oscula lignum. (I.548-556)
Te maestae volucres, Orpheu, te turba ferarum,
te rigidi silices, te carmina saepe secutae
fleverunt silvae, positis te frondibus arbor
tonsas luxit...(xI.44-47)
Olim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum,
cum faber, incertus scamnum faceretne Priapum,
maluit esse deum. deus inde ego, furum aviumque
maxima formido; nam fures dextra coercet
obscaenoque ruber porrectus ab inguine palus, 5
ast inportunas volucres in vertice harundo
terret fixa vetatque novis considere in hortis. (Hor. Sermones I.1-7)
Et apud Horatium invenitur silva doctrinae, silva rhetoricae:
...atque inter silvas Academi quaerere verum...
Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi
silvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena;
nos patriae finis et dulcia linquimus arva.
nos patriam fugimus; tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra
formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas. (Verg. Ec. I.1-5)
At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu
errantis hederas passim cum baccare tellus
mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho. 20
ipsae lacte domum referent distenta capellae
ubera nec magnos metuent armenta leones;
ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.
occidet et serpens et fallax herba veneni
occidet; Assyrium vulgo nascetur amomum. 25
(Ec. IV)
Id quidem ago et tacitus, Lycida, mecum ipse uoluto,
si ualeam meminisse; neque est ignobile carmen:
"Huc ades, o Galarea: quis est nam ludus in undis?
Hic uer purpureum, uarios hic flumina circum 40
fundit humus flores; hic candida populus antro
imminet et lentae texunt umbracula uites.
Huc ades; insani feriant sine litora fluctus."
(Ec. IX)
Cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet.
Ver novum, ver iam canorum, vere natus orbis natus est,
Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites,
Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus.
Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum
inplicat casa virentes de flagello myrteo:
Cras Dione iura dicit fulta sublimi throno.
Cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet. (Pervigilium Veneris)
sunt etiam croceo uiolae de flore corollae
sertaque purpurea lutea mixta rosa
et quae uirgineo libata Achelois ab amne
lilia uimineis attulit in calathis.
sunt et caseoli, quos iuncea fiscina siccat,
sunt autumnali cerea pruna die
castaneaeque nuces et suaue rubentia mala,
est hic munda Ceres, est Amor, est Bromius;
sunt et mora cruenta et lentis uua racemis,
et pendet iunco caeruleus cucumis.
est tuguri custos armatus falce saligna,
sed non et uasto est inguine terribilis;
huic calybita ueni: lassus iam sudat asellus;
parce illi, Vestae delicium est asinus.
nunc cantu crebro rumpunt arbusta cicadae,
nunc uaria in gelida sede lacerta latet:
si sapis, aestiuo recubans nunc prolue uitro,
seu uis crystalli ferre nouos calices.
hic age pampinea fessus requiesce sub umbra
et grauidum roseo necte caput strophio,
formosum tenerae decerpens ora puellae;
a pereat cui sunt prisca supercilia!
quid cineri ingrato seruas bene olentia serta?
anne coronato uis lapide ossa tegi?
pone merum et talos; pereat qui crastina curat:
Mors aurem uellens 'uiuite' ait, 'uenio'. (Copa)
errantes silva in magna et sub luce maligna
inter harundineasque comas gravidumque papaver
et tacitos sine labe lacus, sine murmure rivos,
quorum per ripas nebuloso lumine marcent
fleti, olim regum et puerorum nomina, flores. (Aus. Cup. Cruc. 5-9)
Ad domnam Radigundem
Tempora si solito mihi candida lilia ferrent
aut speciosa foret suave rubore rosa,
haec ego rure legens aut caespite pauperis horti
misissem magnis munera parva libens.
Sed quia prima mihi desunt, vel solvo secunda:
profert qui vicias ferret amore rosas.
Inter odoriferas tamen has quas misimus herbas
purpureae violae nobile germen habent.
Respirant pariter regali murice tinctae
et saturat foliis hinc odor, inde decor.
Haequod utrumque gerunt pariter habeatis utraque,
et sit mercis odor flore perenne decus. (Venantius Fortunatus)
Ad Iovinum inlustrem
sic, dum puncta cadunt, fugiunt praesentia rerum,
et vitae tabulam tessera rapta levat...
quod superest obitu meritorum flore beato,
suavis iustorum fragrat odor tumulo. (Venantius Fortunatus)
Et apud Skeltonidem Laureatum, illum sacerdotem doctissimum, inveniuntur ad
puellas feminasque delectandas hi flores simplices:
To Mastres Margery Wentworthe
With margerain jentyll,
The flowre of goodlyhede,
Embrowdred the mantill
Is of your maydenhede.
Plainly, I can not glose,
Ye be, as I devyne,
The praty primrose,
The goodly columbyne.
With margerain jantill,
The flowre of goodlyhede,
Embrawderyd the mantyll
Is of yowre maydenhede.
Benynge, corteise and meke,
With wordes well devysid,
In you, who list to seke,
Be vertus well comprysid.
With margerain jantill,
The flowre of goodlyhede,
Embrawderid the mantill
Is of your maydenhede. (John Skelton, from The Garlande of Laurell i)
To Maystres Margaret Hussey
Mirry Margaret,
As mydsomer flowre,
Jentill as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre;
With solace and gladnes,
Moche mirthe and no madnes,
All good and no badnes;
So joyously,
So maydenly,
So womanly
Her demenyng;
In every thynge
Far, far passynge
That I can endyght,
Or suffyce to wryght
Of mirry Margarete,
As mydsomer flowre,
Jentyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre.
As pacient and as styll
And as full of good wyll
As fayre Isaphill;
Colyaunder,
Swete pomaunder,
Good Cassaunder;
Stedfast of thought,
Wele-made, wele-wrought;
Far may be sought
Erst that ye can fynde
so corteise, so kynde
As mirry margarete,
This midsomer flowre,
Jentyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre. (John Skelton, from The Garlande of Laurell v)
Si harum facetiarum Gualteri Raleghi ad Dominam Bendbow quae verborum lusum
de verbo anglico 'yew' facit quod latine dicit 'taxus' obliviscerer, essem
neglegens:
A ridle proposed by Sir Walter Rawley to the Lady Bendbow
I cannot bend the Bow wherein to shoot I sue.
It is not made of oake but is made of youe.
This bow must have a string the string must have a shaft
The shaft must have a noch, whereat my Lady laught.
For as noe fortune stands, so no Mans love
Stayes by the wretched and disconsolate
All old affections from new sorrowes Move
Mosse to unburied bones, Icie to walles
Whom Life and people have abandond,
Till th'one be rotten, stayes till th'other falles,
But friendships, kindred, and Loves Memorie
Dies sole, extinguish hearing or behoulding
The voice of woe or face of Miserie
Who being in all like those Winter Showers
Doe come unvald, but then forebear to fall
When parching heate hathburnt both Leaves and flowers
And what we some time were we seeme no More
Fortune hath changed our Shapes, and Destinie
Defac'd our very forme we had before...(Ralegh, "Twenty Second and Last Book
of the Ocean to Cynthia")
Et, optime Daniel, quamvis iuventus a me longior sit quam solita ac senium
deliratioque mihi nondum sint, at tamen clamores, quoniam noxias plantas
iniuriae malas continent, quos filia bona regis dilantis Cordelia dixerat,
sunt apti:
Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud,
Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds,
With hardlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. (King Lear IV.iv.1-6)
Eheu! diadema regia, pro gemmis et pro auro incorruptibili, cum herbis
sterilibus intexitur!
Iam nonnullis exemplis aequaevis finiam:
In the Playground
Come down from your lightning struck tower,
my love, come prey with me.
Step lightly on broken stem and flower,
salute the rough debris.
Tarry longer than an hour
in the smoke of this burned out tree,
tarry longer than an hour
and prey the while with me.
Come down from your lightning struck tower,
my love, come prey with me.
Step lightly on broken stem and flower,
salute the rough debris. (Soledad Gallegos)
---------
The Creased Reed
I am a stranger to the holy mount.
I¹ve seen no quick stepping girls dance around
its clear blue spring or bathe their naked limbs
in the silver mirror of its cold rhymes.
No staff, no sturdy laurel branch
mark my office. Instead I wrench
some small meaning, some slight truth
from pad, pen and ink of scant worth.
But my songs have raised no city¹s walls
nor challenged the force of death¹s iron rules.
No use to sing of those I love:
not in stone nor ink nor song will they live. (Sol Burstein)
--------------------------------------------------
Elegn
Today an afterbirth of autumn leaves
Covers the stripped skeleton of our love¹s
Progress. Barren we stand, embracing blank
Space and the ghosts of days we liked to think
Were stamped with leaves of permanence. Our end,
Fruitless and wandering as windtossed sand,
Mocks its makers, yet craves no epitaph
Beyond these syllables which mute my grief.
The pen which wets the womb of poetry
Must also score the crust of memory,
Yielding to the maker a consciousness
Of something bolder, more lasting than loss.
Hence I measure these lines, a testament
To all that is ours and impermanent,
To the daisy that perishes, the snow
That falls and melts, the arc of the rainbow.
I write for them, for you, for me and all
The names of things ugly and beautiful
Which grow under this fatal sheet of sky,
Those heirs to sad, certain mortality
That are the reason for my poet¹s song,
The root and stem of all our suffering,
The branch and leaf of all our happiness,
The savage wood through which we each must pass. (A. Abruzzo)
-----------------------------------------------------
Velarde: for Ben in June
Velarde, your soft, sprawling valley, full
of Spanish names, replete with Roman sails
and flickering embers, your simple church,
its yard blanketed with red pine bark
and pregnant with the dry ash of death,
those sad, funereal fragrances
of sweet frankincense and precious myrrh,
all these, Velarde, must be tinged with moist
regret, and the vanishing purple of spent lilacs.
Stacked rows of vigil lights reveal no more
than his eulogist¹s words, no certitude
more marmoreal than the Office of the Dead
or that vacant air around his photograph.
At the bitter edge of neither Paradise
nor Gethsemani, we wait and watch, engulfed
in our tender monadologies of private griefs,
our windowless architectures of thuribles,
loss, and soft rain on the roof of this old church.
What shall I call this mauve silence which binds
us here beneath these mute and aging beams,
witnesses to the rituals of death,
birth, and marriage of almost two centuries,
two hundred years of rain, cool grass and death?
His death - there is no name for its vinegar,
no number for its sadnesses, its faint
footfalls of intertwining memories,
transfigured possibilities, and somber,
exalted cypresses of mordent loss.
Today we walk a long, narrow aisle,
flanked by scourge, crucifix, and tomb.
He is already dust in the deep pulse
of long, revivifying memory.
Beyond these old wooden doors the air
is golden and gray, gossamer and rain,
washing the living, cleansing our memory
with sorrow, hope, and the last burgeoning
seeds of another brief, sempiternal Spring. (F. Montoya)
Spero te hoc florilegio versuum qui floribus, foliis, arboribus
graminibusque utantur fructurum.
Valeas.
p.s.
Sequitur versio anglica Petrarcae CXL:
Una candida cerva sopra l'erba
verde m'apparve con duo corno d'oro,
fra due riviere all'ombra d'un alloro,
levando 'l sole a la stagione acerba.
Era sua vista si dolce superba
ch' i' lasciai per seguirla ogni lavoro,
come l'avaro che 'n cercar tesoro
con diletto l'affanno disacerba.
"Nessun mi tocchi," al bel collo d'intorno
scritto avea di diamanti et di topazi.
"Libera farmi al mio Cesare parve."
Et era 'l sol gia volto al mezzo giorno,
gli occhi miei stanchi di mirar, non sazi,
quand' io caddi ne l'acqua et ella sparve.
Prose Translation:
A white doe on the green grass appeared to me, with two golden horns,
between two rivers, in the shade of a laurel, when the sun was rising in the
unripe season.
Her look was so sweet and proud that to follow her I left every task, like
the miser who as he seeks treasure sweetens his trouble with delight.
"Let no one touch me," she bore written with diamonds and topazes around her
lovely neck. "It has pleased my Caesar to make me free."
And the sun had already turned at midday; my eyes were tired by looking but
not sated, when I fell into the water, and she disappeared.
Daniel Hoehr
scripsisti:
> Abhinc sex diebus hanc epistulam scripseram, sed non miseram. Post quattuor
> vel quinque dies non dare constitui. Sed tua epistula de Viato accepto
> aliter constitui. Meam igitur, quaeso, epistulam legas.
Gratias tibi ago ob hanc epistulam et immortalium poetarum versiculos
in linguas Latina atque Anglica. Nunc tibi respondere in lingua Latina
conor. Dolendum est quod tenerem argumentum epistulae tuae, quod est
aut ars poetica aut huis inspiratio lumine dominae, verbis crassis
meis laedam. Me igitur apud omnes hoc legentes de ulla iniuria volo
excusare.
>>From: Daniel Hoehr <dho...@myrealbox.com>
>>Newsgroups: alt.language.latin
>>Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 10:25:24 +0200
>>Subject: Re: Latin translation needed for surprise to girlfriend
>>
>>Would Astrophil seek "fit words to paint the blackest face of
>>woe", "turn others' leaves to see if thence would flow / Some fresh
>>and fruitfull showers upon [his] sunne-burn'd braine", would he bite
>>his "trewand pen, beating [him] selfe for spite" for his *girlfriend*?
>
> Lucius lter Danieli s.p.d.
>
> Gratias plurimas tibi ago, optime Daniel, hos ob versiculos Astrophili
> nostri cui sua Stella erat aster verum cuius lumen erat et iam est ignis
> inventionis artisque poeticae. Nulla ratione est ut veteres poetae dixissent
> esse eos qui faciant (anglice 'makers' vel, ut cecinerant vates Scotorum
> mediaevales, 'makaris'), atque hoc carmen Philippi Sidney, quamvis suam
> dominam Stellam, quae in animo luceat, celebret, per dominae commemorationem
> artem poeticam inventione naturaeque studio quae illam artem gignunt etiam
> celebrat.
Video et assentior. Est Stella quae carminibus Astrophili vitam dat.
Quomodo autem id facit? Stella, sicut aliae feminae quae poetis
inspiratio erant, ei amorem non reddit. Infelix amor non redditus unum
argumentorum frequentissimorum in arte poetica est. Astrophil cantare
de Stella vult ut eam sibi conciliat. Si ei esset, neque ille arti
poeticae studeret neque hos versiculos Philippi Sydney legere possent.
>>would be bite
>>his "trewand pen, beating [him] selfe for spite" for his *girlfriend*?
>
> Mihi non est dubium quin Astrophil, qui philosophiam neoplatonicam coluerit,
> calamum mordeat ut, veluti deus creationis se contemplavit ad naturam
> faciendam, in se aspiciat ut per contemplationem Stellae amatae
> philosophicaeque naturam dei creatam imitetur ad similitudinem imaginis
> divinae poeticam faciendam. Etenim nomen Astrophil, quod ex lingua Graeca
> oritur, illud distichon Platonis praeclarissimum commemorat:
>
> ASTER, PRIN MEN ELAMPES ENI ZWOISIN hEWOS,
> NUN DE 8ANWN LAMPEIS hESPEROS EN F8IMENOIS.
Vere dicis. Illi versiculi etiam ostendunt poetam desperatum cui
inspiratione est, verba autem recta desunt.
>>"turn others' leaves to see if thence would flow / Some fresh
>>and fruitfull showers upon [his] sunne-burn'd braine"
>
> Folia in lexico poetico, ut scis, sunt signa motuum, amoris, mortis,
> virescentium, evanescentium, doctrinae memoriaeque. Sunt autem folia quae
> pendunt de arboribus et de vitibus in hortis numerorum versuumque, ubi ludi
> tragoediae comoediaeque, sub eisdem spiritus arboribus aguntur.
Videtur autem poetam desperatum nostrum legere carmina vatium aliorum
debere ut ibi verba recta fortasse reperiat. Tunc musa dicit illi hos
verba in corde eius sunt. Praeceptum huius carminis est, ut mihi
videtur, quod ars poetica est composita ex inspiratione, quae
extranea, et verba recta, quae intestina.
> Ut scimus
> ex Hymno ad Cererem et ex Ecloga IV, hortus est hortus poetae, atque flores
> enim, arbores, folia in animo et in ingenio eius crescunt. Hortus vero vatis
> est hortus et ingeni et imaginationis propterea quod hunc florilegium tibi
> offero quod sequitur.
Gratias tibi rursus ago ob versiculos quos misisti cum epistula tua.
Tibi quoque offero Andreae Marvellis versiculos, qui enim celebrant
solitudinem poetae in horto. In hoc carmine vates felicitatem in
coniunctione cum herbis ac stirpibus ac fructibus naturae neque amore
ullae dominae reperit.
************************************
Andrew Marvell
The Garden
How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes;
And their uncessant Labours see
Crown'd from some single Herb or Tree,
Whose short and narrow verged Shade
Does prudently their Toyles upbraid;
While all Flow'rs and all Trees do close
To weave the Garlands of repose.
Fair quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence thy Sister dear!
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busie Companies of Men.
Your sacred Plants, if here below,
Only among the Plants will grow.
Society is all but rude,
To this delicious Solitude.
No white nor red was ever seen
So am'rous as this lovely green.
Fond Lovers, cruel as their Flame,
Cut in these Trees their Mistress name.
Little, Alas, they know, or heed,
How far these Beauties Hers exceed!
Fair Trees! where s'eer your barkes I wound,
No Name shall but your own be found.
When we have run our Passions heat,
Love hither makes his best retreat.
The Gods, that mortal Beauty chase,
Still in a Tree did end their race.
Apollo hunted Daphne so,
Only that She might Laurel grow.
And Pan did after Syrinx speed,
Not as a Nymph, but for a Reed.
What wond'rous Life in this I lead!
Ripe Apples drop about my head;
The Luscious Clusters of the Vine
Upon my Mouth do crush their Wine;
The Nectaren, and curious Peach,
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on Melons, as I pass,
Insnar'd with Flow'rs, I fall on Grass.
Mean while the Mind, from pleasure less,
Withdraws into its happiness:
The Mind, that Ocean where each kind
Does streight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other Worlds, and other Seas;
Annihilating all that's made
To a green Thought in a green Shade.
Here at the Fountains sliding foot,
Or at some Fruit-trees mossy root,
Casting the Bodies Vest aside,
My Soul into the boughs does glide:
There like a Bird it sits, and sings,
Then whets, and combs its silver Wings;
And, till prepar'd for longer flight,
Waves in its Plumes the various Light.
Such was that happy Garden-state,
While Man there walk'd without a Mate:
After a Place so pure, and sweet,
What other Help could yet be meet!
But 'twas beyond a Mortal's share
To wander solitary there:
Two Paradises 'twere in one
To live in Paradise alone.
How well the skilful Gardner drew
Of flow'rs and herbes this Dial new;
Where from above the milder Sun
Does through a fragrant Zodiack run;
And, as it works, th' industrious Bee
Computes its time as well as we.
How could such sweet and wholsome Hours
Be reckon'd but with herbs and flow'rs!
************************************
DH