Horatii Carmen 1.4

Winter is melting, its bitterness yielding to pleasing, breezy Springtime;
      slow winches drag dry vessels onto water.
And in the stables no longer rejoices a herd, nor ploughman by fire.
      Fields aren’t gleaming white with morning hoarfrost.
Now Cytherea is leading the choruses: Venus under bright moons
      and Nymphs accompanied by seemly Graces
thump Earth hard with rhythmical feet, as determined Vulcan goes back
      to work in bright hot forges of the Cyclops.
Now it is fitting to garland your shimmering head with verdant myrtle
      or flowers, which Earth, as it thaws, produces.
Now in the shadowy groves it is fitting to sacrifice to Faunus
      an ewe, if called for, or a kid, if favored.
Colorless Death kicks over the tables of beggars and the towers
      of kings alike. O blessed Sestius, how
 Life's brief span disallows us embarking on limitless endeavors!
      Now night's upon you pressing, now the fabled
Manes, and Pluto's diaphanous House, where as soon as you have entered,
      you neither will cast lots to see who drinks first
nor be able to marvel at slender Lycidas, who incites now
      all youths, and whom soon virgins will be hot for.


Chances of Sun

West winds dispersed dull clouds in an eager gust.
Fresh breaths of Spring gave off the appearance of
   change. People took off clothes and lay down
    basking in sunshine and lover's long arms.

Slow hours dissolved right under your limpid eyes,
like everything you ever desired or loved.
  Cold shadows sweep down over sleepers:
    take your belongings and fly from nightfall.

As different as day and the night, or spring
and winter seem, and as irretrievable
  as pleasure feels, today is fickle,
    night is a myth, and the seasons less than

one afternoon long. Laughing at silly things,
like ducks or babies, time has abandoned you
   and never shall come back again, but
    still you enjoy the delicious current.



Isn’t it erotic to be kissed?
Head-to-toe devoured by her lips?
  You would agree with
    me, if you experienced the bliss

tenderly delivered by her sweet
fountain of a mouth. And ivory teeth
  leave an impression
    deeply in my memory of each

girl who ever bit me in the chest,
left me to the torments of unrest:
  sweating the details,
    I’ve become a criminal of flesh.

She is my accomplice. The rewards
aren’t disappointing if she waits
  patiently for the
    gathering eruption from the clouds

Darkening above us as we lie
restlessly competing in a game,
  neither of us cares
    all that much to win, so long as pain

wrecks the possibility of play.
I don’t have the time for the display
  of all the peacock
    feathers that impress in their array.

Finish with your pretense and enough
going through the motions to be loved.
  Nobody said that
    falling in and out would not be rough.



Two blonde kids on a rooftop
  in Brooklyn
play all day afternoon, just
for first-prize. If a roll of
  the dice means
That I win, or I lose, then
  the hell with
it. I played an unfair game,
  and so did
you. Together we strove for
  the glory
of sweet victory over
  each other.

You were crowned in the end with
  the laurel
leaves. You dedicate your win
  to Fortune.
You played well but are modest
  and cunning.
By chance, Fortune is watching;
  she’s pleased with
the outcome of the contest:
it was going to be, did
  just happen.
I took part, and I lost, but
  I played well.



Boot the KickBall Way up in the Blue Sky;
Catch it As It Crashes down inTo Your
Arms like Gold-Flecked Sunshine from the Lord God.
You are Out Of Luck and it’s a Long Walk
Home. your Shorts Are Hidden by your Tee-Shirt;
Looks like You Don’t Have any on. And Your
Legs are So Damn Beautiful i Can’t Stop
Staring At Where They have disapPeared To.
Pull your TeeShirt Up and reasSure Me.
I do Not Know What to with mySelf Do;
I’m aFraid I’m Crazy for unDressed You.