Tag Archives: Ovid

Amores II:20 You don’t need to watch your wife, fool. That just plays into my hands and makes me want her the more. Whatever is permitted becomes unattractive. What isn’t permitted burns even hotter. Love becomes cold if another permits … Continue reading →

Amores II:18 If any of you think it’s disgraceful that a man be the slave of a woman, then you can just call me a disgrace. I’m willing to be dishonored so long as Venus, who holds Paphos and wave-washed … Continue reading →

The Amores are three volumes of lyric poems, focused primarily on the poet’s relationship with his mistress Corinna.

Sulmo, a third portion of the Paelignian countryside, holds a piece of my heart. It’s a small region but fed by sweet waters. Even when the sun draws near in summer and cracks the Earth, and fierce Sirius, Icarus’ dog, … Continue reading →

Little ring, cincture of the finger of a pretty girl who cares for nothing save for the love of the giver, may you go as a worthy gift. May she receive you with joy and immediately slip you over her … Continue reading →

What use is it that girls are deaf to the call of Mars and that they don’t wish to pick up shields and follow the brutal columns, if without war they choose weapons to wound themselves and throw their fate … Continue reading →

My rash Corinna lies exhausted between life and death, trying to force the burden from her distended belly. I am rightly angry at her for secretly deciding to try the risk of pregnancy, but my anger gives way before my … Continue reading →

Wind yourselves about my temples, shoots of triumphal laurel: we have conquered! Behold, Corinna nestles into my bosom. Corinna, whom a husband, a doorman, and sturdy gates–so many enemies!–guarded against being taken by any artifice. This is a victory worthy … Continue reading →

The pine cut for the Argonauts from the steep slope of Mount Pelion first taught the evil paths through the glittering waves of the sea. By rashly slipping between the sliding rocks, it was able to carry the Golden Fleece. 

You swore to me, Graecinus, that no man could love two women at the same time. Because I believed you, I was unprepared and now (poor thing!) find myself in love with two women at the same time. Either is … Continue reading →

You swore to me, Graecinus, that no man could love two women at the same time. Because I believed you, I was unprepared and now (poor thing!) find myself in love with two women at the same time. Either is … Continue reading →

Amores II:9A Alas, Cupid, whom I never could abandon! Ah, boy who fills all my leisure thoughts–why do you punish me, a soldier who never left your standards? You wound me in my own camp! Why does your torch burn … Continue reading →

Cypassis, only goddesses could be worthy of your perfected skill at arranging hair in a thousand styles, and the skill which I know you possess for stolen pleasures is not at all that of a farm girl. You’re a treasure … Continue reading →

Do you think it’s my whole purpose in life to defend myself against your new accusations? Even though I succeed, it’s wearing to have to fight all the time. If I happened to look up at the crowd filling the … Continue reading →

My girlfriend’s parrot, her winged mimic from the Dawn-lighted Indies, has died. Flock to its funeral rites, birds. Come, dutiful winged ones: beat your breasts with your pinions and tear your delicate cheeks with your unbending claws. Pluck out your … Continue reading →

No love is so important (get away from me, Cupid with your quiver of arrows!) that I ought to wish so often that I were dead. Woe is me! I wish I were dead when I think of how many … Continue reading →

I don’t dare try to defend my unfortunate practices or to engage in battle falsely on behalf of my flaws. I’ll confess them if it does any good to admit mistakes: I have no control over my actions in this … Continue reading →

Woe is me, for you who guard my mistress are neither male nor female; you can never know the mutual joys of Venus. The fellow who first gelded a boy should suffer the same injury himself! If you’d felt the … Continue reading →

Bagoas, the duty of guarding your mistress is in your hands, so listen well while I go over a few necessary matters with you. Yesterday I saw my girlfriend taking the air in the Portico of the Palatine Apollo, decorated … Continue reading →

I, Naso, born in the stream-cut Paelignian hills, composed this book also. I am the poet of my own dalliances. And again Love has called me to write. Get away from here, get away, you moralists! You aren’t the right … Continue reading →

Why do you complain, carping Envy, that I’m wasting my life? Do you call poetry a lazy man’s work? Do you say that I should be like the ancient Romans who so long as health permitted pursued the rewards of … Continue reading →

I said, “Stop dyeing your hair,” but now you no longer have hair to dye. Whoever had thicker hair than you when you let it fall free? And it touched the backs of your knees! What have you done to … Continue reading →

Already the blond dawn-maiden rises above the ocean from the side of her elderly husband and sets the day to turning on its frozen axis. Why do you hasten, Aurora? Hold for a time:the flock of birds that every year … Continue reading →

Weep with me for my hard luck: my girlfriend’s answer came back, “No.” Her wretched message denies she can see me today. I should’ve known from the omens. When Nape turned to leave the house with my request, she stubbed … Continue reading →

Nape, you’re skilled at arranging your mistress’ scattered hair, but you’re not merely a handmaid. You’ve shown your talent for the duties of the furtive night, and you’ve proved your cleverness at passing me notes. Often you’ve encouraged a hesitant … Continue reading →

As lovely as Helen who had two husbands, while she was being borne by Phrygian ships from the Eurotas Strait to be the cause of war; as lovely as Leda, to whom cleverly adulterous Zeus made love clad as a … Continue reading →

Every lover is a soldier and guards the camp of Cupid; believe me, Atticus, every lover is a soldier. The age that’s suitable for war is equally fitted for Venus. An aged soldier is a sad thing, just as an … Continue reading →

There’s a certain old woman–if you want to know how a procurer works, listen to me–there’s a certain old woman named Dipsas. She got her nickname from her habits: She’s never been sober to watch Dawn, the mother of Memnon, … Continue reading →

If I have any friends present, clamp manacles on my hands (for they deserve to be chained) before the madness returns: for madness moved my arms to strike my mistress. My injured darling weeps from my woeful hand!