Carmina

by Gaius Valerius Catullus, Len Krisak (Translator)

Overview

The works of poet Catullus have long been a companion for both lovers and those whom love has disappointed. He is also a satirical and epigrammatic writer who savagely consoles with laughter. Carmina captures his mordant, scathing wit and also the concise tenderness, the famous love for reluctant Lesbia who is made present in these new versions. This new translation provides a range of meters and rhymes that evoke the epigrammatic power of the many modes and moods of this most engaging, erotic, and influential of the Latin poets.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781847772596
Publisher:	Carcanet Press, Limited
Publication date:	12/01/2014
Pages:	144
Product dimensions:	5.20(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.40(d)

About the Author

Gaius Valerius Catullus was a poet who lived in the late Roman Republic. His work gratly influenced poets such as Horace, Virgil, and Ovid. Len Krisak was recipient of the Richard Wilbur and Robert Frost prizes. He has translated the works of Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, and his work has appeared in the Antioch Review, Hudson Review, and PN Review.

Read an Excerpt

Carmina

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By Gaius Valerius Catullus, Len Krisak

Carcanet Press Ltd

Copyright © 2014 Len Krisak
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-84777-495-8

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CHAPTER 1

Carmina

      I

    This slender scroll of verse my pumice stone
    Has polished off just now, I send to none
    But you, Cornelius, for you're the one
    Who thought my nothings somethings way back
      when,
    When only you, in all of Italy, 5
    Had dared to write three hard-won, learnèd tomes
    Teaching – by Jupiter! – our history, Rome's.
    So take this chapbook; take it for your own.
    For what it's worth – or is – Muse, let it then
    Outlive more than one life through all its poems. 10

I.3,Cornelius: Cornelius Nepos (110–24 BC), Roman historian and friend of Cicero.

      II

    Sparrow, my beloved girl's delight;
    The one she holds and plays with in her lap;
    The hungry pet she gives her fingertip
    (And often teases so it takes a nip
    When it might please her glowing heart's desire 5
    To make some small, inconsequential jape
    That eases sadness by your little bite,
    I think, and tamp a bit her passion's fire):
    I only wish that I, like her, could play
    With you, and drive my heart-deep cares away. 10

II.1,Sparrow: a possible pun on penis.

      IIB

    This pleases me the way the stories say
    The golden apple pleased that sprinting girl,
    Slackening her long-tied belt, which fell away.

IIb.2,that sprinting girl: Atalanta, who offered to marry any prospective suitor who could best her in a footrace. By dropping golden apples in her path, Milanion (sometimes Hippomedon) succeeded.

      III

    O Venuses and Cupids, weep your sorrow.
    And anyone in love with beauty, weep.
    The sparrow of my dearest girl lies dead:
    The darling of my darling girl; her sparrow.
    She always loved it more than her own eyes, 5
    Since it was sweet, and it would recognise
    Her like a girl who knows her very mother.
    He wasn't apt to leave her lap or keep
    Away, but hopping here and there, would cheep
    Away to please his mistress – and no other. 10
    Now he goes that umbrous road of dread
    No one returns from; where there's no tomorrow.
    I curse you, Orcus, every cursèd shade,
    Devouring all the beauty ever made
    And stealing from me such a lovely sparrow. 15
    Oh, evil deed! O wretched passerine!
    The wrong you've done this darling girl of mine
    Has left her dear, dear eyes all swollen red.

III.13,Orcus: god of the underworld, sometimes Hades or Dis.

      IV

    That's my last yacht you see there, friends. And
      she would tell
    You, if she were alive, she was the fastest ship
    Afloat; that nothing timber-crafted could outstrip
    Her then. Oh, she could fly when she was under
      sail,
    Or outrun anything relying on its oars – 5
    A truth the worst of all the Adriatic shores
    Couldn't deny. No island in the Cyclades,
    Not famous Rhodes, or Thrace with its Propontic
      seas.
    Nor could the Pontic's dismal gulf, where she – a
      yacht-
    In-waiting – once was just a clutch of verdant trees. 10
    (For on Cytorus' heights, there in that sylvan spot,
    She whispered with the sibilance of silken leaves.)
    Pontic Amastris and you, boxwood-clad Cytorus:
    She says you knew this then and know it now as
      well.
    She says that long before her birth – this is her tale – 15
    She masted there atop your highest peak, then
      dipped
    The blades that came from those tall slopes, deep
      in your waves.
    From there, she brought her master through seas
      like no others,
    Whether the port or starboard winds called, or,
      together
    All at once, fair Jupiter, with favouring weather, 20
    Was blowing on the stern-sheets. For that vessel's
      sake,
    We never prayed to any gods ashore back then,
    When she came sailing from far waters where
      she'd been
    And won her way on through, right to this crystal
      lake.
    But that was then. She rests in her last dry dock now, 25
    A dedicated, model craft that's made one vow:
    To Castor and to Castor's twin, the sea's twin
      brothers.

IV.8,Propontic: of the Sea of Azov, between the Hellespont and the Black Sea.

IV.9,Pontic: the Black (Euxine) Sea.

IV.11,Cytorus: a Black Sea town with mountains nearby.

IV.27,Castor, Castor's twin: Castor and Pollux, brothers of Helen and patrons of sailors.

      V

    Let's live, my Lesbia. And let us love.
    Let's treat what all the sniping old men say
    As jealous gossip not worth thinking of.
    Suns may set (and rise again each day);
    Once our brief light at last has died away, 5
    Unending night is ours, through which to slumber.
    Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
    Then another thousand, then a second
    Hundred, then a thousand, then a hundred
    More. Then when our thousands make a number 10
    So jumbled up they never can be reckoned,
    There'll be no evil eye to hide them from.
    For hate-filled men will blanch to see the sum.

      VI

    You'd want to tell Catullus, wouldn't you,
    Flavius, who your lover was, if she
    Weren't déclassée? But silence just won't do,
    Because you love some febrile whore. I know
    It, but you're too ashamed to say it's so. 5
    You're not alone at night. This secrecy
    Is pointless when your bed screams how you sleep.
    (A bed of garlands, Syrian perfume,
    And pillows heads have pressed equally deep.
    A bed so shaky you would swear it's broken 10
    As it shudders, creakingly outspoken.)
    It just won't help, this pose that you assume
    Of silence. Why? You'd show no screwed-out thighs
    If you weren't doing so much stupid screwing.
    So, good or bad, whomever you've been doing, 15
    Tell us! Whom should my verse catasterise?
    Its charms will win you – and your love – the skies.

VI.2,Flavius: we can only speculate as to who this friend of Catullus's might be.

            VII

    How many kisses, Lesbia? You ask
    What sum would be enough – and more – for me?
    In silphium-rich Cyrene, make your task
    To count the grains of Libyan sand that lie
    Between the oracle of fiery Jove 5
    And ancient Battus' sacred tomb. My love,
    Your kisses ought to match the stars on high
    When silent night is still – the stars that see
    Men's secret loves. When all your kisses add
    To that, then your Catullus, driven mad, 10
    Has had enough – more than those spies can
      count,
    Or vile tongues curse. Make that our kiss amount.

VII.3,silphium-rich Cyrene: a north African city noted for a resinous plant used in cooking and medicine.

VII.6,Battus: the legendary king of Cyrene.

      VIII

    Catullus, you're a fool to bear such misery.
    Just let her go, the girl who led you here. The sun
    Was shining on you once, back then, when you
      were one
    Who used to follow where she led you on. Oh, she
    Was loved by you the way no other girl will be ... 5
    Back then. There were so many fine things being
      done –
    Things that you wanted. You were willing, she not
      un-.
    The sun was shining on you once, back then, it's
      true.
    But now she doesn't want those fine things ... nor
      should you.
    You call yourself a man, to chase what runs away? 10
    Make up your mind; stand firm; be hard. It's time
      to say,
    'Good-bye, love. Here on in, my heart is made of
      stone.
    You don't want me? Then I won't beg. You're on
      your own.
    But you'll be sorry when men leave you all alone,
    You bitch! And how much longer do you think 15
      you'll live?
    Who'll chase you then? Who'll want that face you
      want to give?
    And who will love you? Who will call you his? What
      lip
    Will taste that kiss that loves to give a little nip?'
    Catullus, be a rock. And get a rock-hard grip.

      IX

    Veranius, of all my friends the best,
    Three hundred miles ahead of all the rest,
    Have you come home to your Penates? To
    Your agèd mother and those brothers who
    Think just like you? You have? Terrific news! 5
    It means you're safe – that I can hear your views
    On each Hibernian tribe, event, and place,
    In that fine style of yours. Then I'll embrace
    You, kiss your eyes, and kiss that smiling face.
    Of all earth's happy men, how many of them 10
    Surpass me, happier than any of them?

IX.1,Veranius: about all we know is that he was a friend of Catullus.

      X

    Finding me idling in the Forum, Varus
    Took me to see his girl – a little hooker,
    It seemed at first, but then not really all
    That cheap, and really not that bad a looker.
    Well, when we met, it turned out that the small 5
    Talk, out of lots of other things it could
    Do, fell Bithynia's way: how matters stood
    There now, and had it done me any good
    Financially. I told her what was true:
    There was no way for praetors or their crew 10
    To come back home with extra revenue,
    Especially when that praetor was a shit
    Who cared about his cohort not one bit.
    'But even so,' they said, 'you surely must
    Have bought some litter-bearers, who are just 15
    The thing Bithynia's known for?' Well, so she
    Would think I'd been one of the lucky few,
    I said, 'It wasn't all a loss for me.
    Although I got a useless province, still,
    I managed to acquire eight good men.' 20
    Truth was, I hadn't one – not here or there –
    With strength enough to fill a portering bill
    Or hoist an ancient camp bed's broken leg.
    At this, the brazen slut began to beg,
    'My dear Catullus, since I have a yen 25
    For Serapis's shrine, lend me a chair-
    And-eight.' 'Wait. Wait,' I told her. 'When I said
    Just now that they were mine, I meant instead
    That Cinna – Gaius Cinna (he's my friend) –
    Had bought them. What's the difference in the end 30
    Though, his or mine? I use them just the same.
    But you! You're just a pain – a stupid dame
    Playing Ms. Lawyer, trying to embarrass.'

X.1,Varus: either a literary critic (Quintilius Varus) or a friend of Catullus (Alfenus Varus).

X.7,Bithynia: a Roman province in northwest Turkey, on the southern coast of the Black Sea.

X.26,Serapis: an Egyptian deity partnered with Isis. His temple in Rome was near the Campus Martius.

X.29,Cinna – Gaius Cinna: Gaius Helvius Cinna, neoteric poet and author of the epic Zmyrna. We do not know his birth and death dates.

      XI

    Furius and Aurelius, Catullus' good friends,
    Even should he travel to India's far ends,
    Where the shore is hammered by pounding thunder –
        Eastern waves breaking –

    Or Hyrcania, or to the soft Arabians, 5
    Or the quivered Parthians, or far Sacians,
    Or to where the Nile mouths, in seven foldings
      Colour the waters,

    Or to where the Alps loom in all their great heights,
    Just to see where Caesar won all his great fights, 10
    Where the Gallic Rhine flows, or where the far-
      flung
      Britons are savage;

    All of this, whatever the heavens will bring,
    Ready always, passing each test – anything –
    Give my dear this message, in just these few words, 15
      Bitter and telling:

    Let her live and thrive on adulterous men,
    All three hundred, screwing again and again,
    Loving no one truly, and all in one screw,
      Breaking their blue balls; 20

    Never knowing love as it was yesterday.
    With her crime, she killed it – done in the same
      way
    Colters kill: the flower at field's edge will die
      At the plough's passing.

XI.1,Furius and Aurelius: neither of these two friends of Catullus can be identified with any certainty.

XI.5,Hyrcania: on the southern shore of the Caspian Sea.

XI.6,Sacians: inhabitants of eastern Persia.

      XII

    Asinius Marrucinus, what your left
    Hand did while we were laughing in our drinking,
    Is vile – to steal unguarded napkins! Theft
    Is never clever, and if you'd been thinking,
    You'd know that was a cheap and stupid trick. 5
    You don't believe me, eh? Believe your brother
    Pollio, then. He'd gladly pay a whole
    Talent to stop your thieving. (He's the soul
    Of charm, that boy; he's witty, fine, and quick.)
    So send my napkins back or face another 10
    Three-hundred lines – hendecasyllables.
    It's not the napkins' cost; they're valuables
    Because they're gifts. Veranius and Fabullus
    Sent that linen, which is Saetaban,
    The finest of the best Iberian. 15
    That means without them I would be bereft –
    As if I'd lost Fabullus and Veranius.

XII.1,Asinius Marrucinus: the asinine, joke-playing brother of the major literary figure (and friend of both Virgil and Horace) Gaius Asinius Pollio.

XII.13,Fabullus: almost nothing is known about this friend of Catullus.

XII.14,Saetaban: Saetabis, on the southern coast of Spain, was noted for its linen.

      XIII

    At my place – soon, Fabullus – you'll have dined
    Deliciously. That's if the gods are kind
    To you and if you bring good food along ...
    And plenty of it. Don't forget a charming
    Girl either – or your wine and wit and song- 5
    Like laughter. Bring me everything disarming,
    Friend, and you'll dine well. You could do worse,
    For spiders have been stringing in my purse.
    But come, and in return, accept love neat, or
    Something even finer, even sweeter: 10
    For I'll give you a perfume so refined –
    A gift the Venuses and Cupids chose
    To give my girl – that when you've finally sniffed
    Its scent, Fabullus, you will beg this gift:
    To have the gods make you one giant nose. 15

      XIV

    It's good I love you more than my own eyes,
    Calvus. Your smart-ass present, otherwise,
    Would make me hate you with Vatinian hate:
    What did I do, what did I say of late
    To earn from you this literary ... prize? 5
    I hope the gods will send that client curses
    Who gave you all these miserable verses.
    But if, as I suspect, these gifts are Sulla's,
    That teacher prone to hot discoveries,
    Then I don't mind. I'm glad to see your time 10
    Hasn't been wasted, or your energies.
    But God, this chapbook's a poetic crime,
    So naturally you sent it to Catullus
    Just to see me die from reading it
    At Saturnalia, the best of days! 15
    You'll never get away with such dumb shit,
    You wiseguy. No! For at the sun's first rays,
    I'm running to the stalls for Caesius,
    Aquinus, and Suffenus Poisonous,
    To pay you back. My suffering's been outrageous! 20
    Meanwhile, get lost, scram, beat it, disappear,
    And take the crappy feet that brought you here,
    The world's worst poets – worst of all the ages.

XIV.2,Calvus: Gaius Licinius Macer Calvus (82–47? BC), a neoteric poet and close friend of Catullus.

XIV.3,Vatinian hate: Publius Vatinius was a rabid supporter of Julius Caesar and was prosecuted for corruption by Catullus's friend Calvus. We do not know his exact birth and death dates.

XIV.8,Sulla: he remains unknown.

XIV.18–19,Caesius, Aquinus, and Suffenus Poisonous: these three unfortunates are poets whose identities remain unknown. 'Poisonous' is not, of course, the last-named poet's cognomen, but my little joke, given the venena in line 19 of the Latin text.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Carmina by Gaius Valerius Catullus, Len Krisak. Copyright © 2014 Len Krisak. Excerpted by permission of Carcanet Press Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents

Contents

Title Page,
Dedication,
Acknowledgements,
Introduction,
Carmina,
About the Author,
Copyright,