I translated the first stanza of this poem for my Fall's Here post, and noted then that the poem was actually about winter. Now that it's winter, here's the whole thing.
De ramis cadunt folia, The leaves fall from the branches,
nam viror totus periit, The green world fades to brown. iam calor liquit omnia The warmth of summer steals away
et abiit; and goes to ground.
nam signa coeli ultima The sun seeks out the farthest signs
sol petiit. upon his round.
Iam nocet frigus teneris, The days are short and bitter,
et avis bruma leditur, And wound each tender thing.
et philomena ceteris The nightingale and all his kin
conqueritur, refuse to sing
quod illis ignis etheris Now that the day-star's fires are hid
adimitur. from everything.
Nec lympha caret alveus, The stream is full: it tumbles
nec prata virent herbida, Through fields once green, now white.
sol nostra fugit aureus Since from our land the golden sun
confinia; has taken flight,
est inde dies niveus, Now winter sends us snow by day
nox frigida. and frost by night.
Modo frigescit quidquid est, Though all that is, is frozen,
sed solus ego caleo; A fire burns in me:
immo sic mihi cordi est My heart is kindled by desire
quod ardeo; and misery.
hic ignis tamen virgo est, All for a girl -- the girl I love
qua langueo. most desperately.
Nutritur ignis osculo That fire is fed by kisses,
et leni tactu virginis; By touch, and by the light
in suo lucet oculo That shines upon me from her eyes,
lux luminis, supremely bright.
nec est in toto seculo Nowhere in all the world is such
plus numinis. a heavenly sight.
Ignis graecus extinguitur Greek fire can be extinguished
cum vino iam acerrimo; By bitter wine, it's said.
sed iste non extinguitur This fire of mine, alas, cannot,
miserrimo: for it is fed
immo fomento alitur By fuel that grows abundantly
uberrimo. in winter's bed.
Helen Waddell says the notion that Greek Fire could be extinguished by vinegar is "nonsense," and I agree. (You can read her translation here.)
6 comments:
I never learned Latin. As I look at the original and the translation I try to figure out just what is going on and not getting real far with it. Thanks for doing the translation - that is a timely poem and I couldn't even figure out that bitter wine means vinegar. Who knew?
Yeah, Sixty: translating faithfully is one thing, and writing a poem in English is another. You can never do complete justice to the original poet. Well, both he and his copyright have expired, so he can't sue me.
now that it's winter
I am ready to concede. Snow has fallen and our woods now look like the picture posted. Though the fire within burns low, I've been making it through the dark days with the help of a new kitten that showed up 3 days before the election. SonM found it waiting outside the door of the old building he is renovating and brought it inside, where it went from hiding in the wall to living in a dog cage while it got used to being around people and held, to running around owning the place and jumping up into my arms to purr and purr whenever I come to visit. It's all black with gold eyes and the feeling evoked when holding it, while not the same as the one described in the translation, comes close to the goodness of a fire stoked by kisses, touch, light in the eyes, warmth, safety and rations delivered on a daily basis!
Congratulations on the kitten, MamaM. Does it have a name yet?
Does it have a name yet?
It does, but cat names are tricky. They need to be tried out for sound and fit, much like working a poem. Dog names are more straightforward, they tend to land and stick while cat names morph and move from silly to serious.
He started out as Kitten of the Wall. As in, "Kitten of the Wall, where are you?" which was called whenever we'd come to put out food. At first, he wouldn't budge from his cramped hiding place at the bottom of two old walls but eventually got hungry enough to scrabble up when we'd arrive, peer down from the top and peep at us as we clean the box and fixed his plate. Which turned him into Peep of the Wall.
After several days of peeping back and forth with each other, he finally decided to come down close enough to be touched, and then scooped, going docile when gently held close by the scruff long enough for him to feel safe and start purring when stroked. Once the motor turned on there was no stopping the purrs and no need to scoop as he'd jump up on his own to be petted, and that's when he turned from Peep into Pinkle Purr, from A.A. Milne's poem by that name.
Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A little black nothing of feet and fur;
And by-and-by, when his eyes came through,
He saw his mother, the big Tattoo.
And all that he learned he learned from her.
"I'll ask my mother," says Pinkle Purr.
Then, since we've been watching the series SWAT, the name Hondo was tried, followed by Yang for the few strands of white chest fur on his otherwise all-black body.
Kraken was also considered, with Koh as the next try, in honor of his Kitten of the Wall origin, with Koh-Peep, and Koh-Peepster as the aberrations used while the notion of him being a Koh settled in.
And that's what he's being called, for now, Koh--the little prince with enough mojo to hold onto the imagined hope that he might someday be King. King Koh! A fine name for what started out as a glowing pair of little yellow eyes peering up out of the darkness and dust of an old wall.
December 15, 2020 at 4:05 AM Delete
Post a Comment