Poems in Latin (Catullus) and French (de Nerval) Translated by A Z Foreman Poems Found in Translation

Poems Found in Translation: “Catullus: Poem 34 "Prayer to Diana" (From Latin)” plus 2 more

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• Catullus: Poem 34 "Prayer to Diana" (From Latin)
• Catullus: Poem 2 "The Sparrow" (From Latin)
• Gérard de Nerval: Delfica (From French)

Catullus: Poem 34 "Prayer to Diana" (From Latin) Posted: 20 Aug 2015 03:24 PM PDT Poem 34: Prayer to Diana By Gaius Valerius Catullus Translated by A.Z. Foreman We are unmarried youths and maidens　　 　　In Diana's strength secure　　 And as befits us, youths and maidens　　 　　Let us now sing of Her.　　 We sing to You, Latona's daughter, ã€€ã€€ 　　Great child of greatest Jove Whose mother gave You birth within　　 　　A Delian olive grove, To be the mistress of the mountains　　 　　and greening woods, to rule wild hidden hinterlands, the resonant　　 　　river, the calm deep pool.  Women in labor crying out　　 　　call You light-bringer Juno. But You are Crossroad Trivia too　　 　　And the light-borrowing Luna.  In monthly measures you divide　　 　　The year's course, usher back The plenteous harvest of the farmer　　 　　Into his rural shack. By any name you choose be pleased　　 　　With this our worship. Hold The Roman Race safe in your strength　　 　　As once you did of old.  The Original: Diānae sumus in fide　　 puellae et puerÄ« integrÄ«:　　 Diānam puerÄ« integrī　　 　　puellaeque canāmus. ō Lātōnia, maximÄ«       　　 magna prōgeniÄ“s Iovis,　　 quam māter prope DÄ“liam　　 　　deposÄ«vit olÄ«vam, montium domina ut forÄ“s　　 silvārumque virentium        ã€€ã€€ saltuumque reconditōrum　　 　　amniumque sonantum: tÅ« LÅ«cÄ«na dolentibus　　 IÅ«nō dicta puerperÄ«s,　　 tÅ« potÄ“ns Trivia et nothō es        ã€€ã€€ 　　dicta lÅ«mine LÅ«na. tÅ« cursÅ«, dea, mÄ“nstruō　　 mÄ“tiÄ“ns iter annuum,　　 rustica agricolae bonÄ«s　　 　　tecta frÅ«gibus explÄ“s.     sis quōcumque tibi placet　　 sancta nōmine, RōmulÄ«que,　　 antÄ«que ut solita es, bona　　 　　sospitÄ“s ope gentem.

Catullus: Poem 2 "The Sparrow" (From Latin) Posted: 20 Aug 2015 03:19 PM PDT Poem 2: The Sparrow By Gaius Valerius Catullus Translated by A.Z. Foreman Sparrow, my dear beloved's darling pet Which she would pet, and fondle in her lap Or tease with one slight finger's poke, provoking You to peck her back with mordant beak. Many's the time when my beloved, beaming Girl has a mind to turn to you for comfort, Hoping, I think, to find escape from sorrow Or something to relieve her of that ardor.  If only I could play the way she plays  With you, and have release from roiling passion. The Original: Passer, dÄ“liciae meae puellae, quÄ«cum lÅ«dere, quem in sinÅ« tenÄ“re, cui prÄ«mum digitum dare appetentÄ« et acrÄ«s solet incitāre morsÅ«s, cum dÄ“sÄ«deriō meō nitentÄ« cārum nesciō quid lubet iocārÄ« et sōlāciolum suÄ« dolōris, crÄ“dō ut tum gravis acquiÄ“scat ardor: tÄ“cum lÅ«dere sÄ«cut ipsa possem et trÄ«stÄ«s animÄ« levāre cÅ«rās!

Gérard de Nerval: Delfica (From French) Posted: 20 Aug 2015 07:13 AM PDT Delfica Gérard de Nerval Translated by A.Z. Foreman Daphne, do you still know that lay of yore By sycamore, white laurel, myrtle shade, By olive-tree, or trembling willow glade? That love song still beginning evermore? Recall that shrine great colonnades enclose? The bitter lemons where your teeth have pressed, The grotto, deadly to the reckless guest Where the slain dragon’s ancient seed repose? The gods you mourn for shall return at last Time will restore the order of days past. Prophetic gusts have shuddered through the lands While yet the Sybil with a Latin mien Sleeps underneath the arch of Constantine, And undisturbed the portico still stands.  The Original: Delfica La connais-tu, Dafné, cette ancienne romance, Au pied du sycomore, ou sous les lauriers blancs, Sous l’olivier, le myrte, ou les saules tremblants, Cette chanson d’amour qui toujours recommence ?... Reconnais-tu le Temple au péristyle immense, Et les citrons amers où s’imprimaient tes dents, Et la grotte, fatale aux hôtes imprudents, Où du dragon vaincu dort l’antique semence ?... Ils reviendront, ces Dieux que tu pleures toujours ! Le temps va ramener l’ordre des anciens jours ; La terre a tressailli d’un souffle prophétique... Cependant la sibylle au visage latin Est endormie encor sous l’arc de Constantin — Et rien n’a dérangé le sévère portique.