(From the venetian epigrams)

40

It is such joy to hug my beloved so close, to desire her,

And in her hearbeat to hear her first confession of love:

Joy still greater to feel life coming, another life pulsing

As it moves, as it thrives, in her dear nourishing womb!

Now already it leaps up boldly, in youthful impatience

Knocking and pushing its way, longing for heavenly light.

Wait for a few days longer! The Hours must strictly conduct you

On all the paths of your life, leading as Fate has decreed.

Let it decree for you what it will, little growing-up darling-

For you were fashioned by love; may you know love in your turn!

(Roman elegies)

I

Here my garden is growing, the flowers of Eros I tend here;

They are the Muse's own choice, bedded out wisely the bloom.

Branches that bear ripe fruit, the golden fruit of the life-tree:

Gladly I planted them once, gladly I nurture them now.

Stand here beside them, Priapus! I've nothing to fear from marauders;

Anyone's welcome, it's all free to be picked and enjoyed.

But keep the hypocrites out, those miscreants flaccid and shamefaced!

If one should dare to approach, peep at our charming domain,

Turn up his nose at the fruits of pure Nature, just punish his backside

With one thrust of that red stake-shaft that sprouts from your loins.

XI

Now on the rustic hearth an autumnal welcoming fire glows,

Kindled from crackling wood, brilliant with uprushing flame.

And tonight it delights med still more, for this bundle of twigs will

Still be burning, not yet crumbled to ember and ash

When my darling arrives. The twigs and faggots will blaze up,

And we shall make the night warm - what fine feast it will be!

Early tomorrow she'll busily rise from the bed of our loving;

Quickly the ashes she'll stir, soon the bright flame she'll renew.

For this especial gift Love gave to my dearest of charmers:

Plearsure no sooner burns low than she can wake it again.