Monday, June 06, 2005
Poem of the Month
Carmen V
Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis.
Soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,conturbabimus illa,
ne sciamus,aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.
Gaius Valerius Catullus (84- 54 BC)
Poem # 5
Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us estimate all the rumors of the stern old men
to be worth just one assis [small Roman coin]
Suns are able to set and to rise:
When that brief light has set for us,
one perpetual night must be slept.
Give me a thousand kisses, then another hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then yet another thousand more, then another hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands,
we will mix them all up so that we don't know,
and so that no one can put the evil eye on us
when he finds out how many times we have kissed.
This is one of the first of Catullus's two dozen or more poems about his lover, whom he calls Lesbia (but apparently was a real person of a different name, Clodia). He chose Lesbia as a nom de plume for two reasons, I think. Lesbos had the same reputation for homosexual women then as it does now, in that it names them (Lesbians), and his love poems were in the style of Sappho, Lesbos' most famous citizen and a darned fine poet. The cycle of poems goes from the the giddy first feelings of lust and love to the bitter recriminations post break-up. The last Poem of the Month (it started 'I hate and I love') was at the bitter end of the cycle. This one is from the happy beginning. It is a seize the day, let's live and love while we are young type of poem.
Some of it needs explication. I've always assumed that the stern old men (could be 'man'--my memory of Latin, never too strong to begin with, is fading) was a real person, but the scholars haven't always supported that thought. They say it's more of a let's defy convention thought. The most beautiful of the lines start when he's talking about the passage of time. Notice the "dying of the light" construction at the end of line 5, The brief light falls, "occidit brevis lux"--three syllables, two syllables, one syllable. Like a door of a lighted room closing, like the sun falling behind the horizon and reducing to nothing, to darkness. Then the next two words, "nox est" , night is. This is the best line. The passage of time untimately leaves to the sleep of one perpetual night-- the night where one must sleep (clearly death). And it's one night; in contrast to the many kisses he gives and gets from Lesbia. The listing of the first hundred, then a second thousand, etc. all mixed up and difficult to tally is in stark contrast to the certainty of the one night. The reason he doesn't want anyone to know how many kisses they've shared is because of the Roman's common belief (has it completely disappeared?) that knowing the exact number of a thing or practice allowed one to curse it--put the evil eye on it. I love this poem. Probably should have started with it.
Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis.
Soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,conturbabimus illa,
ne sciamus,aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.
Gaius Valerius Catullus (84- 54 BC)
Poem # 5
Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us estimate all the rumors of the stern old men
to be worth just one assis [small Roman coin]
Suns are able to set and to rise:
When that brief light has set for us,
one perpetual night must be slept.
Give me a thousand kisses, then another hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then yet another thousand more, then another hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands,
we will mix them all up so that we don't know,
and so that no one can put the evil eye on us
when he finds out how many times we have kissed.
This is one of the first of Catullus's two dozen or more poems about his lover, whom he calls Lesbia (but apparently was a real person of a different name, Clodia). He chose Lesbia as a nom de plume for two reasons, I think. Lesbos had the same reputation for homosexual women then as it does now, in that it names them (Lesbians), and his love poems were in the style of Sappho, Lesbos' most famous citizen and a darned fine poet. The cycle of poems goes from the the giddy first feelings of lust and love to the bitter recriminations post break-up. The last Poem of the Month (it started 'I hate and I love') was at the bitter end of the cycle. This one is from the happy beginning. It is a seize the day, let's live and love while we are young type of poem.
Some of it needs explication. I've always assumed that the stern old men (could be 'man'--my memory of Latin, never too strong to begin with, is fading) was a real person, but the scholars haven't always supported that thought. They say it's more of a let's defy convention thought. The most beautiful of the lines start when he's talking about the passage of time. Notice the "dying of the light" construction at the end of line 5, The brief light falls, "occidit brevis lux"--three syllables, two syllables, one syllable. Like a door of a lighted room closing, like the sun falling behind the horizon and reducing to nothing, to darkness. Then the next two words, "nox est" , night is. This is the best line. The passage of time untimately leaves to the sleep of one perpetual night-- the night where one must sleep (clearly death). And it's one night; in contrast to the many kisses he gives and gets from Lesbia. The listing of the first hundred, then a second thousand, etc. all mixed up and difficult to tally is in stark contrast to the certainty of the one night. The reason he doesn't want anyone to know how many kisses they've shared is because of the Roman's common belief (has it completely disappeared?) that knowing the exact number of a thing or practice allowed one to curse it--put the evil eye on it. I love this poem. Probably should have started with it.
# posted by Roger Fraley @ 8:13 AM 
