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Sunday, August 1, 2010

Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite


     As is readily obvious, the translation is in rough form. I am attempting to make every line in English correspond to the line in Greek. I believe a basically colloquial language is the only one capable of being read in serious poetry today, though it is important to twist it with rhetoric and ornament to keep it alive. I used a basic five beat line, generally iambic, stretching it fairly often to six beats when the content implied some high moment or sustained tone. The line sounds almost but not quite natural in English. Since the lines are somewhat longer than ordinary, conversational breath units, they sound vaguely dignified and this impression is reinforced by the historic uses of English blank verse. 
     The fact that the originals were written in a more highly artificial language might tend to favor a similarly artificial language for translation. But it is my contention and the common practice of classical translators today as a whole that the subject, style, and syntax of a poem like the Hymn are themselves sufficiently removed from colloquial realms that it would be a mistake to further intensify the effect. The lengthy semantic units of the lines allow the reader to linger lovingly on each of a long series of images or ideas, making the poem always clearly representing a special category of experience. (I think it would be tempting to break each line into tiny word groups and give each a separate space on the page, rather like bits in a Creeley poem, but the effect cannot be sustained for the large handfuls of meaning that each line of the hymn conveys and it would shortly become tedious and annoying.) 
     I like to use as many ordinary expressions as possible, but an occasional admixture of the vulgar or the formal can sometimes help to remind the reader that the poem ranges over the whole of experience rather than being confined to specified reservations.


Hymn to Aphrodite 

Muse, declare the deeds of golden Aphrodite, 
the Cypriot who stirs sweet lust among the gods, 
who's broken to her yoke the tribes of men, 
flying birds, and all the wild beasts — 
those that live on land or in the sea — 
all love crowned Cytherea's works. But there 
are three she cannot win with wiles: bright-eyed 
Athena, aegis-bearing Zeus' child, 
does not delight in golden Aphrodite’s deeds; 
Athena's love's for war and Ares’ work, 
for fights and combat and for well-made crafts, 
for at the start she taught earth's men to make 
chariots and war cars worked in bronze, and then, 
she teaches, too, the soft-skinned girls at home, 
puts in their minds most glorious skills; 
nor does laughter-loving Aphrodite 
control the loud resounding Artemis 
of golden arrows who loves bows and hunts 
and mountain beasts and loves the lyre and dance 
and piercing cries and shady groves and just men's towns; 
nor does the upright maiden Hestia, 
crooked-counselled Cronos' first-born child 
(and also youngest by the will of Zeus) 
love Love (Apollo and Poseidon courted her 
but she said no and firmly she refused, 
she swore a mighty oath which she upheld — 
touching aegis-holding father Zeus's head, 
the godly one, vowed virgin to remain — 
Father Zeus gave her instead high fame, 
and so she sits in hearts of homes and takes 
the cream; she's honored in the temples, too, 
and mortals make her senior of their gods. 
Aphrodite's wiles won't win these three, 
but Aphrodite captures all the rest, 
the blessed gods and also mortal men. 
Even thundering Zeus is led astray 
the greatest and the one with greatest fame, 
even his shrewd heart, when she should wish, 
is easily led with mortals to make love 
and his wife and sister Hera never knows. 
(She whose form is fairest far of all, 
most glorious of the gods whom Rhea bore 
with sly Cronos -- all-knowing Zeus took her 
and made of her his sage and prudent wife). 
Then to Aphrodite Zeus tossed sweet desire 
to mix with mortals so that soon she could 
not keep away from beds of men. So how 
could laughing Aphrodite then make mock 
among the gods and softly smile and say 
that she had joined the gods with mortal girls 
(who bear the sons of gods who're doomed to die) 
and goddesses she'd mixed with mortal men. 
Zeus threw then sweetest lust into her heart, 
lust for Anchises tending cows on Ida's 
spring-rich mountain peaks -- he looked a god. 
Seeing him then laughing Aphrodite felt
a new desire and fear then strike her heart. 
She went to Paphos -- Cyprus -- then where her 
aromatic altar and her temple stood, 
and she went in and shut the shining doors. 
The graces then anointed her with oil 
such as blooms on bodies of the gods. 
(The oil was sweet, ambrosial, smelled so fine!) 
Then laughter-loving Aphrodite donned 
fine clothes of golden fabric on her flesh. 
She left sweet-smelling Cyprus then for Troy 
(fast she flew and high, the clouds her road), 
then she came to spring-rich Ida, full of beasts, 
she went through hills right to his home and after 
her came bright-eyed lions, fawning grey-furred 
wolves and bears and speedy leopards after deer, 
and then her heart rejoiced at seeing them 
and to their hearts she tossed hot lust; they paired 
in twos and mated in the shade. and then 
she came into the sturdy house and found 
him left alone within that place, Anchises, man 
made great by god's own grace. All of the rest 
had driven herds to grassy spots and he 
was left alone at home to walk and pluck 
his lyre with piercing notes. Zeus’ daughter Aphro-
dite stood before him very like a girl 
in size and form and told him as he eyed 
her not to fear. Anchises looked at her 
and was amazed to see her form and size 
and shining clothes. She wore a robe outshining 
fire's glow, so fine and gold and richly worked. 
A marvel to behold!  It shone like moonshine 
all about her breasts and she wore twisted armlets, 
calyx earrings bright and round her tender 
throat fine necklaces.  Then Eros seized Anchises 
and he said "You're welcome, queen, blest one,
to this house, be you Artemis or Leto, 
golden Aphrodite, noble Themis,  
bright-eyed Athena or maybe you're one 
among the Graces, go with gods and whom 
we know don't die or nymphs who live on lovely 
mountain tops where rivers start and grassy meadows grow. 



On a peak with prospects all about I'll build 
an altar for you where I'll leave rich gifts 
all through the year and you can smile on me, 
make me great among the Trojan men, 
make my offspring strong and as for me 
let me live long and see the shining sun – 
then prosperous I'd come to age's door." 
Zeus' child, Aphrodite, answered him, 
"Most glorious of earth-born men, know I'm 
not divine — why think I’m like a god. 
I'm mortal and my mother was of earth. 
My father's famous Otreus — you know 
of him, he rules all well-walled Phrygia, 
but I can speak your tongue as well as mine.
My nurse at home was Trojan, she took me 
a baby from my mother's care. That's twhy
I learned your speech so well. I danced for noisy 
Artemis of golden shafts, the gold-wand-
holding Argus-killer grabbed me — we played, 
the nymphs, and much sought after girls and then 
a countless crowd encircled us, then gold-wand-
holding Argus-killer seized me and he took 
me over farms of mortal men and land 
untenanted, untilled where raw-meat-eating beasts 
roam shaded spots It seemed my feet would not
touch the fertile earth. He told me I 
should be Anchises’ wife, and from our bed 
would come forth brilliant sons, the offspring from us two
would shine most bright. The mighty Argus-slayer 
told me this and then he mounted up 
to join the gods, and I came here for fate 
is on me strong. I beg of you by Zeus 
and by your parents (who must be good or they'd 
have no such son) o take this virgin then, 
unversed in love. Your father must meet me,
your prudent mother and your noble sibs.
I'll be no bad addition, rather good. 
Quick, send the fast-horsed Phrygian folk 
to tell my father and my mourning mother. 
They'll send you woven clothes and heaps of gold. 
These many shining things are yours with me. 
You must give then a lovely wedding feast, 
well-liked by men and by the deathless gods. 
Having talked, she tossed his heart sweet lust. 
Eros seized Anchises and he said, "If you 
are mortal and your mother too, famed Otreus 
your father as you say, if godly herald 
Hermes brought you here, if you’re to be 
my wife for life, then there’s no god or mortal man 
can hold me back till I have lain with you 
in love. Right now Apollo the far-darter
could loose pain’s arrows from his silver bow — 
I would go to hell, my godlike girl, 
after having mounted to your bed. 
He took her hand and laughter-loving Aphrodite 
looked off with pretty eyes downcast, and moved 
toward the well-made bed spread with soft clothes 
for him. For blankets they had skins of bears 
and of loud-roaring lions, too,  that he 
had killed himself on mountain heights. And when 
they'd mounted to the well-made bed, he first 
took off her twisted armlets, pins, her calyx 
earrings, and her necklaces. He loosed her belt 
and stripped her shining clothes and laid them on 
a silver-studded seat. Then — by the will 
of gods and destiny, the goddess and 
the man made love (he didn't realize). But at 
the time when cows and hardy sheep turn back 
from flowered fields for home then Aphrodite 
dressed herself and poured out sweet and soundest sleep 
on Anchises. And when the bright divinity 
was dressed, she stood beside the bed and then
her head touched ceiling, from her goddess' cheeks 
there shone a beauty that befits crowned Cytherea -- waking him she said, "Get up, o son of Dardanus! Why sleep? And think, if now I look the same 
as when your eyes looked on and saw me first 
before? And quickly he awoke and looked 
at her, at Aphrodite's throat and lovely eyes 
and much afraid he turned his eyes aside 
and pulled his cloak up high to hide his face 
and speaking winged words entreated her, 
"Goddess, when I saw you first, I knew you were divine, 
but you deceived me then. By aegis-holding Zeus 
I beg of you don't leave me now to live 
a cursed life! Take pity! He who beds 
a god is never healthy after that." 
Then Zeus' daughter Aphrodite spoke, 
"Anchises, noblest of all mortal men, 
take heart and don't be overcome by fear. 
You needn't think you'll suffer harm from me 
or other gods for we have love for you.
You shall have a son who'll rule in Troy. His children's 
children, too, who are to come. His name shall be 
Aeneas since I was filled with awful shame 
to lie with man. (Yet your line always comes 
the nearest gods in form and shape of any men). 
Wise Zeus he grabbed the blond Ganymede, 
(his beauty was so great) and took him up 
to pour the drinks in Zeus's house for gods. 
A marvel and the gods all honor him. 
He pours red nectar from a golden bowl. 
But Tros felt endless pain then not to know 
to where the wondrous wind had borne his boy 
so always then he mourned and every day 
till pitying Zeus paid him back for his son -- 
high-stepping horses such as carry gods. 
Those were a gift and then Zeus told the Guide, 
the Argus-killer, to inform the man 
his son would live like deathless, ageless gods. 
And when Tros heard this news from Zeus he wept 
no more but in his heart rejoiced and joyous rode 
his stormy-footed steeds. So Tithonos 
was snatched by golden Dawn and he was mortal yet 
was like a god, and she asked dark-cloud Cronos’ 
son if he might be immortal, live throughout 
all time and Zeus consented and fulfilled 
her wish. So childish then was venerable Dawn. 
She didn't ask for youth with no old age 
so while he had his charming youth he lived 
with golden-throned Dawn the early born 
delighting at earth's end by Ocean's stream, 
but when the first grey hairs began to grow 
on his fair head and on his noble chin, 
the venerable Dawn kept from his bed 
although she still looked after him at home, 
gave him ambrosia, food, and finest clothes. 
But when he was oppressed with loathsome age, 
he could not walk or lift his limbs, it seemed 
to her heart then the wisest thing to lay 
him down and close the shining doors. There he 
just babbles and his strength is gone which once 
he had in limber limbs. I would not have 
you deathless in that way always to live 
among the gods, but if you could preserve 
your present form and shape and could be called 
my mate, sorrow would not wrap my prudent heart. 
But you will soon be seized by stark old age 
which merciless stands next to every man 
destructive, wretched, hated by the gods. 
The gods will now reproach me thanks to you 
every day and always due to you. 
They used to fear my comments and my craft 
for I could mate them all with mortals too. 
Thus I made my mind subject them all, 
but now my words will sound with no such strength 
among the gods for much I've been misled. 
Most wretchedly my mind has gone astray. 
Beneath my belt a child I've made with man, 
and when that child first sees the light of sun,
the mountain nymphs full-breasted can take him. 
(Those nymphs are neither men nor gods but live 
quite long and eat immortal food and dance 
in circles fair and fast among the gods and Sileni 
and Argus-killer eagle-eyed can mate 
with them in lovely caves. And when they're born 
then pines or bright-topped oaks grow up upon 
the fertile earth so fine and flourish standing 
on steep mountain peaks, and men know these 
are sacred precincts then and never mortal cuts 
the trees with ax. But when the Moira Death 
stands very near then those fine trees will wither still. 
Their bark then rots about them and boughs fall. 
The nymph and tree leave sunlight then at once. 
The nymphs shall keep my child and care for him, 
and when he's reached the age of charming youth 
the goddesses will show him then to you 
and so that I can tell you all I want, 
I'll bring the child here when he is five 
and when you've seen this boy (a joyful sight 
for godlike he will be) then bring him quick 
to windy Ilion and if mortals ask 
you who it was who got your own dear child 
beneath her belt, you must be sure to tell 
them as I bid -- say that his mother is 
a flowery nymph, one who lives in forests of this hill, but if you boast and say a foolish thing and say you lay with well crowned Cytherea, angry Zeus will throw a thunderbolt. 
I’ve told you all so heed what I have said. 
Keep yourself from talk, respect god's wrath. 
Then she mounted up the windy sky. 
Hail goddess, queen of Cyprus strong! I started out 
            with you and now shall turn.

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