Propertius 2.12 Flashcards
quicumque ille fuit, puerum qui pinxit Amorem,
nonne putas miras hunc habuisse manus?
Whoever he was who first depicted Amor as a boy,
Don’t you think it was a wonderful touch?
is primum vidit sine sensu vivere amantis,
et levibus curis magna perire bona.
He was the first to see that lovers live without sense,
And that great good is lost in trivial cares.
idem non frustra ventosas addidit alas,
fecit et humano corde volare deum:
scilicet alterna quoniam iactamur in unda,
nostraque non ullis permanet aura locis.
The same man, with meaning, he added the wings of the wind,
and made the god hover in the human heart:
true, since we’re thrown about in shifting waves,
And our breeze never lingers in one place.
et merito hamatis manus est armata sagittis,
et pharetra ex umero Cnosia utroque iacet:
ante ferit quoniam, tuti quam cernimus hostem,
nec quisquam ex illo vulnere sanus abit.
And it’s right that his hand should grip barbed arrows,
and the Cretan quiver hang across his shoulders,
since he hits us before we safely see the enemy,
and no one escaped unwounded from his hurt.
in me tela manent, manet et puerilis imago:
sed certe pennas perdidit ille suas;
evolat heu nostro quoniam de pectore nusquam,
assiduusque meo sanguine bella gerit.
His darts remain with me, and his form, a boy:
but surely he must have lost his wings;
since he never stirs anywhere but in my heart,
And, oh, wages endless war in my blood.
quid tibi iucundum est siccis habitare medullis?
si pudor est, alio traice tela tua!
What joy is it for you, Amor, to inhabit my thirsty heart?
If you know shame, transfer your war elsewhere!
intactos isto satius temptare veneno:
non ego, sed tenuis vapulat umbra mea.
Better to try those innocent of your poison:
Its not me you his: its only my tenuous shadow.
quam si perdideris, quis erit qui talia cantet,
(haec mea Musa levis gloria magna tua est),
qui caput et digitos et lumina nigra puellae,
et canat ut soleant molliter ire pedes?
If you destroy me, who’ll be left to sing like this?
(This slender Muse of mine is your great glory.)
Who will sing the face, the hands, or the dark eyes of my girl,
Or how sweetly her footsteps are accustomed to fall?
