Ik ben niet verbaasd; jij hebt goede smaak.
Priscus wil niet met jou trouwen, Paula.
Ook hij heeft goede smaak. "
Martial, known the world around
for witty books of epigrams,
whom you, devoted reader, crowned
with fame—while he has life and breath—
such as few poets get in death.
Hardly drinks, Charinus, still he’s pale.
A fine digestion too, Charinus, still he’s pale.
He takes the sun, Charinus, still he’s pale.
He dyes his skin, Charinus, still he’s pale.
Eats pussy, yet, Charinus, still he’s pale.
Book III : 26 To Candidus
without your neck, and hands, and legs
without your breasts, and ass, and hips,
and Chloe, not to labour over details,
I could live without the whole of you.
When is it coming, tell me, that tomorrow?
How far off, and where, and how will you find it?
In Armenia, or Parthia, is it concealed then?
Your tomorrow’s as old as Nestor or Priam.
How much would it cost you, tell me, to buy?
Tomorrow? It’s already too late to live today:
He who lived yesterday, Postumus, he is wise.
the things that bring a happy life:
wealth left to you, not laboured for;
rich land, an ever-glowing hearth;
no law, light business, and a quiet mind;
a healthy body, gentlemanly powers;
a wise simplicity, friends not unlike;
good company, a table without art;
nights carefree, yet no drunkenness;
a bed that’s modest, true, and yet not cold;
sleep that makes the hours of darkness brief:
the need to be yourself, and nothing more;
not fearing your last day, not wishing it.
and cries that she absolutely has to be covered;
but, with tears and moans, sighs nothing is worth that,
and declares she’s reconciled to dying instead.
He begs her, live, not lose her years of youth,
and lets be done what he can’t do now himself.
The female doctors leave, males take their place,
her knees are raised. O weighty remedy!
if I recall, were thirty-four.
Their sweets were mixed with bitters, yet
still the delightful times were more.
If pebbles marking good and bad
were piled in two heaps, here and there,
the white ones would surpass the black.
To shield your heart from biting care
and shun some kinds of bitterness,
don’t grow too close to any friend:
your joy and grief will both be less
Arm ben ik steeds geweest, dat wil ik wel bekennen,
Maar heel de wereld leest mijn werk: dat is óók iets!
Gij bulkt van 't geld, fokt paarden voor de rennen,
Maar verder zijt gij, vriend, toch eigenlijk maar niets.
Zo zijn wij beiden. Wat ik ben kunt gij niet wezen,
Maar wat gij zijt, dàt kan gemaklijk ieder zijn.
Cesar, if you happen to light upon my little books,
put aside the frown that rules the world.
Even the triumphs of emperors are wont to
and a warlord is not ashamed to be matter
for a quip.
Read my verses, I beg, with the expression
you watch Thymele and jesting Latinus.
A censor can permit harmless jollity.
My page is wanton, but my life is virtuous.