.
Catullus XI
Furius and Aurelius, my two friends,
Whether I go to farthest India,
The shore by ever-pounding Eastern seas
Beaten by tide-waves,
To Hyrcania, or Arabia’s pillowed ease,
Scythia, arrow-bristling Parthia,
Waters commingled with the seven-fold
River of Egypt,
Whether I climb and cross the tall cold
Alps, to see great Caesar’s marble pride,
The Gaulish Rhine and horrid Britain’s chill
Far-distant terrors;
In this and in whatever heaven’s will
Commands, you both stand ready at my side.
Carry to her that was my love these few
Words of a victim:
Let her live and thrive within the stews,
Embrace three hundred lechers in her power
While loving none, but manhood from them all
Heartlessly wrenching;
Regarding not my dead love—see it fall—
Which her sin killed, just like a single flower
At meadow’s edge, when once the passing plow
Churned earth and crushed it.
.
.
Original Latin text
Furi et Aureli, comites Catulli—
sive in extremos penetrabit Indos,
litus ut longe resonante Eoa
tunditur unda,
sive in Hyrcanos Arabasve moles,
seu Sagas sagittiferosve Parthos,
sive quae septemgeminus colorat
aequora Nilus,
sive trans altas gradietur Alpes,
Caesaris visens monimenta magni,
Gallicum Rhenum horribilesque ulti-
mosque Britannos—
omnia haec, quaecumque feret voluntas
caelitum, temptare simul parati,
pauca nuntiate meae puellae
non bona dicta:
cum suis vivat valeatque moechis,
quos simul complexa tenet trecentos,
nullum amans vere, sed identidem omnium
ilia rumpens;
nec meum respectet, ut ante, amorem,
qui illius culpa cecidit velut prati
ultimi flos, praetereunte postquam
tactus aratro est.
.
Translator’s Note
This poem, written in Sapphic stanzas, is traditionally thought to refer to the woman Clodia Metelli, with whom the poet Gaius Valerius Catullus carried on a tempestuous affair for some time. He used the literary name “Lesbia” as a way to protect her true identity, and also to honor the Greek poet Sappho of Lesbos, whose work he deeply admired and sometimes translated. Catullus wrote several other poems about Clodia Metelli, wildly oscillating between passionate love and resentful hatred. Clodia, a spoiled upper-class woman of some social prominence, was very sexually promiscuous, and Catullus often expresses anger at her infidelity. This poem is thought to be the one that marks their final breakup, and his repudiation of her.
The poem is addressed to the speaker’s two close friends, Furius and Aurelius, directing them to deliver a harsh message of contempt and alienation to Clodia, as contained in the two final sections. The first four sections describe the extreme and dangerous travels that they would undertake for their friend Catullus, and how he trusts them to deliver his words to the woman. The speaker refers to himself in the third person except in sections 4 and 6, where he says meae puellae (to my girl) and meum … amorem (my love), in a final burst of pain and anger.
The Sapphic stanza, as used by Catullus, consists of three lines and a short bob-line that follows them with indentation. The first three lines follow this rhythm:
˗ ᴗ ˗ ᴗ ׀ ˗ ᴗ ᴗ ˗ ׀ ᴗ ˗ ˗
The indented bob-line follows this rhythm:
˗ ᴗ ᴗ ˗ ׀ ᴗ
A short or a long quantity is allowed in the fourth syllable of each long line, and in the fifth syllable of the bob-line. There is no end-rhyme in the original Latin, but I have connected the six sections of my translation with what I call a “drifting rhyme scheme” that adds a reminiscence of rhyme while not obtruding itself into the speaker’s emotionally intense words. The drifting rhymes are:
India / seas ease / Parthia
fold cold / pride / chill will / side
few stews / power / all fall / flower
Some readers may notice a missing syllable in the first line of section 3. My feeling when writing was that the phrase “tall cold Alps” was too good to pass up, and the enjambment of “Alps” to the second line left a strong final spondee in the previous line that completed the pentameter. Iambic pentameter allows for such wiggle-room.
.
.
Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide. He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.
Joseph – I enjoyed the themes in this one – how it encompasses both loyalty in friendship and also disloyalty in romantic relationships.
Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Catullus shows the typical Italian trait of taking loyalty and disloyalty VERY seriously.
Dr. Salemi, what an intriguing translation and the conveyance to us in your note of a drifting rhyme. I believe you have outdone Catullus with your own exceedingly intelligent English language capability, although my Latin is limited. I particularly loved the term “arrow-bristling.” It certainly reads like a final breakup letter. I always enjoy your delving into ancient classical subjects and literature while delivering to us notes with teaching points of history and word usage that further bring to life your exquisite poems.
Thank you for your kind words, LTC Peterson. I try in my translations to get English words that are as closely equivalent as possible to the original language, making allowances for metrics and idiomatic usages.
In this poem, the toughest thing to translate was “ilia rumpens,” which literally means “breaking [their] groins.” The basic sense of the Latin is what we in colloquial English would mean when we say “breaking their balls.” For us this phrase now simply means “giving someone a hard time.” But Catullus is being very sexually explicit here — he means that Clodia, by her sluttish promiscuity, is sexually draining her many lovers of their masculine energy.
The ancient Roman poets were not squeamish about sex. There’s some stuff in Catullus and Martial that would make the jaws of some modern prudes hit the floor.
Dear Dr Salemi thank you for translating this poem for us to enjoy. It is an education in itself. It touches on so many themes. I had to look up some of the names and found myself transported to another world whilst at the same time wondering whether anything changes at all with the so called elites.
We are so fortunate to have such knowledge here , thank you and thank you to the SCP.
Many thanks to you, Maria, for your generous words. Yes, politically powerful elites don’t change in their attitudes and behavior. They are selfish, inconsiderate, highly snobbish, and addicted to many vices. Clodia Metelli was so notorious that even Cicero mentioned her as “not just a strumpet, but an impudent strumpet to boot.” So I guess we can imagine her as an ancient-world version of Taylor Swift, or those repulsive Kardashian females.
Joe, this translation of a poem that is over 2000 years old is compelling and captivating. The form itself feels markedly different from the English forms that we are used to and that takes us back to a different age and aesthetic. But what is most stunning about this is the relatability of the ancient Catullus — we can certainly relate to his leaning on his friends for support from a broken heart, we can relate to the grandiosity of describing a friendship so transcendent that it matters in India, Britain and everywhere in between; and most of all we can relate to the indignation and hurt from having an unfaithful lover and the desire to curse her. That poor crushed flower as a metaphor carries a pathos which is as fresh today as ever.
As a matter of historical interest, since Caesar is mentioned with Gaul as his “pride” (at least as you translate it), can we date this poem to a date after the Gallic Wars but before Caesar challenges the Senate, crosses the Rubicon and takes Rome?
Brian, thank you for these kind words and thoughtful observations. The image of the small flower being sheared by the passing plow has always touched readers, and yes, it remains fresh and piercing today, just as it was when first written.
You’re right about the dating. It is after the major conquests in Gaul but before the senatorial anger against Caesar began to get serious. The words “marble pride” are my translation of “monimenta” — referring possibly to whatever monuments Caesar may have set up in conquered territory, or perhaps just to “testimonials to Caesar’s greatness,” as the scholar Kenneth Quinn suggests.
What a beauty of a poem this is, Joseph, with a splendid translation of yours supplying a finishing touch in English that faithfully magnifies Catullus, while reflecting your own style of reading and writing! I refer to the final image of the flower, after it “has been touched” by the passing plow. Catullus means to include the many senses of the verb “touch” in Latin, including the touch given to feelings and a touch given to something that ought not to be touched–as well as “strike” and “defile.” Your “churned earth and crushed it” interprets “tactus aratro est” with power built up through other violent terms: “pounding,” “beaten,” “bristling,” and “wrenching.” Not to mention images of hardness in “tall cold Alps” and “marble pride.” In creating the atmosphere of the poem, these serve (tangentially, dare I say) to characterize Clodia. And I think I recall another poem in which Catullus says her “menacings” (minae) “touch” him. You are able to render his undertones as well as literal meanings. And your interpretation of “ilia rumpens” as “wrenching manhood” away from men is exactly what this reversal of commonplace masculine and feminine imagery implies. Clodia is hard, cold, sharp, and powerful–no flower! Well selected and very well done.
Thank you, Margaret. I tried my best to capture the various emotional intricacies of this poem: anger, resentment, harshness, coldness, sexual envy, and at the end the softness and innocence of the flower, used a a metaphor for previous tender intimacy.
This translation was done in 1975, so it is one of the first Latin poems I ever attempted to put into English..
Wow, Joe – this is pretty epic for such a short lyric: the recitation of the places at the ends of the Earth is awesome and also a wonderfully delaying tactic before we get to the meat of the matter: the sheer vitriol condensed from the images of the wide world to the ‘stews’. Has what I would call a Rochesterian force about it! God bless John Wilmot!
Many thanks, James. Try Catullus 58 for a real dose of Rochesterian lewdness:
Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa,
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
nunc in quadriviis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
[Caelius, our Lesbia, that Lesbia,
Yes, that Lesbia whom Catullus loved singly,
More than himself and all his dear ones,
Now at crossroads and in back alleys
Jerks off the descendants of great-souled Remus.]
The basic suggestion here is that Lesbia has become the lowest of streetwalkers, performing sexual acts in public areas. In Victorian London, she would have been called a “tuppence upright.”
This is one of the best translations of Catullus I’ve read. Reading the Latin conveys images of his world, and a deep sense of intimacy and incisive wit. You’ve captured all that here. I actually feel like I’m reading Catullus when I read the English.
Also, I appreciate how you approximate Latin verse in English, foregoing rhyme and relying solely on meter. The conversion of the dactyls to iambs adapts the poem to English, and I think makes it flow naturally.
Thank you, Adam. I like translating Catullus because his Latin isn’t as intricate and complex as some other Roman poets. When Catullus used the Sapphic stanza it was fairly new to the Romans, but (as with all the meters he employed) he made it seem perfectly natural and at home.