Название: Ovid's Erotic Poems
Автор: Ovid
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Старинная литература: прочее
isbn: 9780812209921
isbn:
I.4
Your husband’s coming to our feast? That same repast | |
I’m praying will turn out to be his last? | |
So I must see my darling like some common guest; | |
Watch any banquet hanger-on caressed. | |
Shall someone else, some man, grow warmer in my place, | 5 |
Arms round your neck in casual embrace? | |
No wonder that the wedding of Atrax’s daughter | |
Drew both those men and half-men to the slaughter! | |
But not for me some Centaur’s home; my members mean | |
To have you like a man’s. That’s plainly seen. | 10 |
So memorize what you must do (don’t give the South | |
Wind or the East these words fresh from my mouth): | |
Arrive before him. As to why, I cannot say: | |
What could we do? Come early anyway. | |
Then when he lies down on the couch, go modestly, | 15 |
But brush against my foot in secrecy. | |
And watch my subtle looks, my eyes, communicate; | |
Catch all my hints … and then reciprocate. | |
Arch words that make no sound will speak from silent brows. | |
Observe my hands; in wine, they’ll trace my vows. | 20 |
When you are thinking of our hungry, errant hands, | |
Finger your cheeks as if with blushing brands. | |
Or if you’re harboring against me some complaint, | |
Tug gently on your earlobe as a feint. | |
My darling, when I speak and you approve the sound, | 25 |
Then smile … and twirl one of your rings around. | |
Hands down like those in prayer, palm the banquet table … | |
To wish him all the curses you are able. | |
The wine he stirs for you, let your husband drink—take heed! | |
Then whisper your choice to the ganymede. | 30 |
The cup that’s been refilled, I’ll take and drink from first, | |
Sipping from where your lips have quenched their thirst. | |
If he should offer you some dainty that he’s tasted, | |
Refuse your husband’s food; let it be wasted. | |
Don’t let him throw his arms around your slender shoulder | 35 |
Or draw you to that chest hard as a boulder. | |
Make sure his nimble fingers never find your breast. | |
Don’t let him kiss you—this above the rest! | |
Just let his lips touch yours and I’ll stand up and swear | |
They’re mine, revealing my love then and there. | 40 |
But these are open torts; the robe you wear, my dear, | |
Hides things that fill me with a cold, blind fear. | |
Don’t let your thigh touch his; don’t let his brush your leg. | |
Your soft foot touch his rough one? No, I beg! | |
I fear so much because I’ve boldly done it, too. | 45 |
See how my own acts act like rack and screw, | |
So often have we two too fast made sweetest haste, | |
Beneath unfastened robes, to touch and taste. |
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