DEDICATION

To whom do I give my witty little book,

newly buffed and pressed?

To you, Cornelius: your singular audacity

consigned to three sheets the history of the world –

pithy but damned belabored.

You always thought my little nothings something,

so take this book, whatever sort it is,

and, dear Muse, let it last.

ATALANTA

Bird, little toy of my love,

the one she teases and holds close,

provokes to nip and bite when the heat demands diversion,

distraction from desire to soothe the burning ache

(at least that's how I see it):

if only I could play with you like that,

relieve the pain of wanting her …

… this would be my golden apple

like the one that freed a nimble maiden

from a chastity belt so long bound tight.

DIRGE

Venuses and Cupids, Lovers and Literati,

Mourn!

Dead is my love's little fetish,

the bird she cherished

more than life.

He was delicious

and knew her to the quick.

Never leaving her lap,

hopping about

he'd chirp only for her.

Now he commences the shadowy journey

whence no bird returns.

Shame on you, shady henchmen

of Orcus

feasting on beauty: from me

you have snatched a bird of great price.

Evil deed, wretched bird:

you streak red

the swollen little eyes of my love.

PERSONIFICATION

Friends, that pirogue claims

to be the fastest of all boats,

claims it could outpace all other ships

by oar or by sail. It says

the driving Adriatic will confirm this,

as will the Cyclades, grand Rhodes

and Marmara, stiff with Thracian storms,

along with the sullen Pontic gulf

where that skiff was once a comate

branch whose greeny whispers issued

forth from the Cytorian ridge.

Cities of the Black Sea,

this boat says it is known best by you,

claims to have stood on your heights,

dipped its little blades in your waters

and from there to have born its master

through countless impossible straits

whether winds blew starboard or port

or Jupiter struck both sheets.

When finally it left the sea for this quiet pool

it made no vows to the gods of terra firma.

That was long ago: now in tranquil old age

it offers itself to you, Castor and Pollux.