medieval poetry #12
Two lovely ladies are celebrating their birthdays today, so these poems are for you two, silvan_lady and laeglass. Happy birthday! *hugs*
To the Cleric Liutger
Walafrid Strabo (c. 808-849)
With kind attentions and loving mind
Strabo has given these little words to his cherished Liutger.
Although there has been little expression of love from either of us,
I believe nonetheless that you remember me well enough.
Whatever happens to you I wish joyfully that it be fortunate, and if any
Misfortune afflicts you, I will grieve in the hamlet of my heart.
As an only son to his mother, as sunlight to the earth,
As dew to grass, or ocean wave to fish,
As the air to song birds, or the murmurs of brooks to meadows,
So your face, young boy, is to me.
If what we think possible can happen,
I pray bring yourself into our sight quickly.
Since I have learned that you have stopped near us,
I cannot rest unless I know I will see you soon.
May your renown, life, health, and strength
Exceed in abundance the stars, drops of dew, and grains of sand.
Ad Liutgerum clericum
Dulcibus officiis et amica mente colendo
Liutgero Strabus paucula verba decit.
Parva licet fuerit nostrae dilectio partis,
credo tamen memorem te satis esse mei.
Quicquid habes dextrum gaudens volo; porro sinistrum
si quid adest, doleo cordis in oppidulo.
Unicus ut matri, terris ut lumina Phoebi,
ut ros graminibus, piscibus unda freti,
aer uti oscinibus, rivorum ut murmura pratis.
Sic tua, pusiole, cara mihi facies.
Si fieri possit, fieri quod posse putamus,
ingere te nostris visibus, oro, celer.
Nam quia te propius didici consistere nobis,
non requiesco, nisi videro te citius.
Exedat numeros astrorum, roris, harenae
gloria, vita, salus atque valere tuum.
From eleventh century manuscripts
Marcus in love with a boy pretends the boy he loves is his son
And while he wants to be called father, he knows nothing of fatherhood.
He veils shame with piety and love with love,
And Piety mourns that she shades his crime.
Day hears "son"; night and bed hear "lover":
To suit the occasion he changes names for the boy.
Stupid man, what doesn't Cynthia tell her brother when he is in the dark?
Don't think that the deeds of the night are hidden from the day.
From first light of dawn, the boy becomes "son" to this "father,"
But in the bedroom this "son" begins to be just "boy."
Marcus amans puerum natum mentitur amare
vultque pater dici nescius esse pater;
et pietate nefas et amorem velat amore:
se pietas umbram criminis esse dolet.
"Nate" dies audit, nox et torus audit "amice,"
et pro temporibus nomina mutat ei.
Stulte, quid ignaro non dicit Cynthia fratri?
Ne credas noctis facta latere diem.
Qui "pater" est, huic "filius" est a lumine primo;
"filius" a thalamis incipit esse "puer."
Note: Cynthia is a personal name of Greek origin meaning "from Mount Cynthus." Cynthia was originally an epithet of the Greek goddess of the moon, Artemis, who was sometimes called "Cynthia" because, according to legend, the goddess was born on Mount Cynthus.
To the Cleric Liutger
Walafrid Strabo (c. 808-849)
With kind attentions and loving mind
Strabo has given these little words to his cherished Liutger.
Although there has been little expression of love from either of us,
I believe nonetheless that you remember me well enough.
Whatever happens to you I wish joyfully that it be fortunate, and if any
Misfortune afflicts you, I will grieve in the hamlet of my heart.
As an only son to his mother, as sunlight to the earth,
As dew to grass, or ocean wave to fish,
As the air to song birds, or the murmurs of brooks to meadows,
So your face, young boy, is to me.
If what we think possible can happen,
I pray bring yourself into our sight quickly.
Since I have learned that you have stopped near us,
I cannot rest unless I know I will see you soon.
May your renown, life, health, and strength
Exceed in abundance the stars, drops of dew, and grains of sand.
Ad Liutgerum clericum
Dulcibus officiis et amica mente colendo
Liutgero Strabus paucula verba decit.
Parva licet fuerit nostrae dilectio partis,
credo tamen memorem te satis esse mei.
Quicquid habes dextrum gaudens volo; porro sinistrum
si quid adest, doleo cordis in oppidulo.
Unicus ut matri, terris ut lumina Phoebi,
ut ros graminibus, piscibus unda freti,
aer uti oscinibus, rivorum ut murmura pratis.
Sic tua, pusiole, cara mihi facies.
Si fieri possit, fieri quod posse putamus,
ingere te nostris visibus, oro, celer.
Nam quia te propius didici consistere nobis,
non requiesco, nisi videro te citius.
Exedat numeros astrorum, roris, harenae
gloria, vita, salus atque valere tuum.
From eleventh century manuscripts
Marcus in love with a boy pretends the boy he loves is his son
And while he wants to be called father, he knows nothing of fatherhood.
He veils shame with piety and love with love,
And Piety mourns that she shades his crime.
Day hears "son"; night and bed hear "lover":
To suit the occasion he changes names for the boy.
Stupid man, what doesn't Cynthia tell her brother when he is in the dark?
Don't think that the deeds of the night are hidden from the day.
From first light of dawn, the boy becomes "son" to this "father,"
But in the bedroom this "son" begins to be just "boy."
Marcus amans puerum natum mentitur amare
vultque pater dici nescius esse pater;
et pietate nefas et amorem velat amore:
se pietas umbram criminis esse dolet.
"Nate" dies audit, nox et torus audit "amice,"
et pro temporibus nomina mutat ei.
Stulte, quid ignaro non dicit Cynthia fratri?
Ne credas noctis facta latere diem.
Qui "pater" est, huic "filius" est a lumine primo;
"filius" a thalamis incipit esse "puer."
Note: Cynthia is a personal name of Greek origin meaning "from Mount Cynthus." Cynthia was originally an epithet of the Greek goddess of the moon, Artemis, who was sometimes called "Cynthia" because, according to legend, the goddess was born on Mount Cynthus.