ALCMAN
Desire
Maidens with voices like honey for sweetness, that breathe desire,
See I faint; for no sea-bird I, as I would be, nor tire
Over the foam-flowers flyig with halcyons ever on wing,
Keeping a careless heart, a sea-blue bird of the Spring.
////////////////////////////////////////////
There is such a thing as the vengeance of the gods:
that man is blessed who devoutly weaves to the
end the web of his day unweeping.
And so I sing of the brightness of Agido: I see her
like the sun, which Agido summons to shine on us as
our witness
//////////////////////////////////////////////
Asleep lie mountain-top and mountain-gully,
shoulder also and ravine; the creeping-things
that come from the dark earth,
the beasts whose lying is upon the hillside,
the generation of the bees,
the monsters in the depths of the purple brine,
all lie asleep, and with them the tribes of the winging birds.
|
|
Over hoogten en bergtoppen en lover Hangt donker thans de nacht. Nu slapen reptielen En alwat de vruchtbare aarde voedt : Het wild in de bergen, Het bijenvolk, En de monsters in de diepte van de luidbruisende zee. En ook de wijdgevlerkte vogels slapen
|
Hymn to Artemis …..
…..
And there is the vengeance of the gods.
He is a happy man who can weave his days,
No trouble upon the loom.
And I, I sing of Agido,
Of her light. She is like the sun
To which she makes our prayers,
The witness of its radiance.
Yet I can neither praise her nor blame her
Till I have sung of another,
Sung of our choirmaster,
Who stands among us as in a pasture
One splendid stallion
Paws the meadow, a champion racer,
A horse that runs in dreams.
…..
Imagine her if you can. Her hair,
As gold as a Venetian mane,
Flowers around her silver eyes.
What can I say to make you see?
She is Hagesikhora and
Agido, almost, almost as beautiful,
Is a Kolaxaian filly running behind her
In the races at Ibeno.
A Pleiades of doves they are
Contending at dawn before the altar of Artemis
For the honor of offering the sacred plow
Which we have brought to the goddess.
They are the white star Sirius rising
In the honey and spice of a summer night.
……
And she is, she is our own,
The splendid-ankled Hagesikhora!
With Agido, by whose side she lingers,
She honors the rites with her beauty.
Accept her prayers O gods,
For she is your handiwork,
Perfect of her kind.
And I, I, O Choirmaster,
Am but an ordinary girl.
I hoot like an owl in the roof.
I long to worship the goddess of the dawn
Whose gift is peace. For Hagesikhora
We sing, for her we virgin girls
Make our lovely harmonies.
…..
Translation Guy DAVENPORT