IXa
Oh Cupid, you who are never sufficiently despised in this matter, 1
Oh lazy boy in my heart--
Why do you injure me, I a soldier who never left your signal,
And I, myself, am wounded in my own camp?
Why does your torch burn, why do your bow pierce friends 5
There used to be more glory to conquer those that fight
Why? Did not Achilles aid, by means of medical help afterwards,
The hero (Telephus), the wounded one, whom he struck with a spear point?
The hunter follows the fleeing; he relinquishes the captures
And often seeks a further away having been found 10
We, the people dedicated to you, feel your weapons;
The inactive hand is held back against resisting enemies.
What delight does a hooked arrow blunted on naked
bone have? Love has left my bone naked.
So many men are without love, so many girls are without love! 15
From here for you with great praise may the triumph go.
Rome, unless she produced force into the immense world,
She would now be roofed with straw huts.
The weary soldier is led out to accepted fields.
The free horse from the starting gate is sent into grasses; 20
After a long time the naval ship is secretly put under pine trees,
The discharged sword is placed safely deposited.
Also girls, who so many times earned me from love,
Time is for finishing and to live peacefully.
IXb
If any god said to me “Live with love having been set aside” 25
I would ward them off - And all the way girls are such sweet misfortune.
When I am properly weary, and love has become languid in my mind,
I am driven whither by the tornado of the miserable mind, that I don’t understand.
As if a harder of mouth horse carries off a master into headlong,
On the foaming restraining bridle in vain; 30
As land is nearly reached a sudden wind snatches the stern of the ship
touching the port, into the deep water-
Thus often the inconstant wind of Cupid drives me back,
Purple Love resumes his familiar arrows. Pierce me, boy! I display naked to your placed weapons; 35
This is your force, thus your skillfulness makes;
As if arrows came here having been ordered by voluntarily-
Hardly for them in front of me his quiver is well known!
Unhappy man, for whom during the whole night
He manages to rest and great rewards call sleep! 40
Stupid, what is sleep, unless the image of frozen death!
Fate will give long times to the person who must rest.
Oh Cupid, you who are never sufficiently despised in this matter, 1
Oh lazy boy in my heart--
Why do you injure me, I a soldier who never left your signal,
And I, myself, am wounded in my own camp?
Why does your torch burn, why do your bow pierce friends 5
There used to be more glory to conquer those that fight
Why? Did not Achilles aid, by means of medical help afterwards,
The hero (Telephus), the wounded one, whom he struck with a spear point?
The hunter follows the fleeing; he relinquishes the captures
And often seeks a further away having been found 10
We, the people dedicated to you, feel your weapons;
The inactive hand is held back against resisting enemies.
What delight does a hooked arrow blunted on naked
bone have? Love has left my bone naked.
So many men are without love, so many girls are without love! 15
From here for you with great praise may the triumph go.
Rome, unless she produced force into the immense world,
She would now be roofed with straw huts.
The weary soldier is led out to accepted fields.
The free horse from the starting gate is sent into grasses; 20
After a long time the naval ship is secretly put under pine trees,
The discharged sword is placed safely deposited.
Also girls, who so many times earned me from love,
Time is for finishing and to live peacefully.
IXb
If any god said to me “Live with love having been set aside” 25
I would ward them off - And all the way girls are such sweet misfortune.
When I am properly weary, and love has become languid in my mind,
I am driven whither by the tornado of the miserable mind, that I don’t understand.
As if a harder of mouth horse carries off a master into headlong,
On the foaming restraining bridle in vain; 30
As land is nearly reached a sudden wind snatches the stern of the ship
touching the port, into the deep water-
Thus often the inconstant wind of Cupid drives me back,
Purple Love resumes his familiar arrows. Pierce me, boy! I display naked to your placed weapons; 35
This is your force, thus your skillfulness makes;
As if arrows came here having been ordered by voluntarily-
Hardly for them in front of me his quiver is well known!
Unhappy man, for whom during the whole night
He manages to rest and great rewards call sleep! 40
Stupid, what is sleep, unless the image of frozen death!
Fate will give long times to the person who must rest.