Anacreonta 4
‘Hephaestus, work your silver,
But don’t make me armor
–what good am I in battles!–
Just a hollow cup–
As deep as you can make it.
Don’t decorate it with stars
Or the Wagon, or dark Orion,
I don’t care about the Pleiades
Or the pretty Ploughman.
Cover it with vines for me
And grapes clinging to them
And Mainads at their harvest.
Add a wine press
And people treading grapes
As satyrs laugh along
With golden Loves
And Aphrodite grinning.
Together there with pretty Luaias,
Love and Aphrodite”
τὸν ἄργυρον τορεύων
Ἥφαιστέ μοι ποίησον
πανοπλίαν μὲν οὐχί·
τί γὰρ μάχαισι κἀμοί;
ποτήριον δὲ κοῖλον
ὅσον δύνῃ βαθύνας.
ποίει δέ μοι κατ᾿ αὐτοῦ
μήτ᾿ ἄστρα μήτ᾿ Ἅμαξαν,
μὴ στυγνὸν Ὠρίωνα.
τί Πλειάδων μέλει μοι,
τί γὰρ καλοῦ Βοώτου;
ποίησον ἀμπέλους μοι
καὶ βότρυας κατ᾿ αὐτῶν
καὶ μαινάδας τρυγώσας,
ποίει δὲ ληνὸν οἴνου,
ληνοβάτας πατοῦντας,
τοὺς σατύρους γελῶντας
καὶ χρυσοῦς τοὺς Ἔρωτας
καὶ Κυθέρην γελῶσαν
ὁμοῦ καλῷ Λυαίῳ,
Ἔρωτα κἀφροδίτην.
Anacreonta 5
“Clever craftsman, make
A springtime cup already
The seasons are bringing us
The pleasure of the first roses
So work that silver
And make me a pleasing cup.
I am asking you for rites
Not to sketch a foreign tale
Nor one of flight.
But put Zeus’ offspring there
Sacred Bacchus on our side.
Add in Kypris to initiate the drinking,
Clapping out songs for weddings
Carve near unarmed Loves
And laughing Graces.
Add pretty young people
Under spreading vines
Full of grapes,
Unless Apollo is lurking there too.”
καλλιτέχνα, τόρευσον
ἔαρος κύπελλον ἤδη·
τὰ πρῶτ᾿ ἡμῖν τὰ τερπνὰ
ῥόδα φέρουσιν Ὧραι·
ἀργύρεον δ᾿ ἁπλώσας
ποτὸν ποίει μοι τερπνόν.
τῶν τελετῶν παραινῶ
μὴ ξένον μοι τορεύσῃς,
μὴ φευκτὸν ἱστόρημα·
μᾶλλον ποίει Διὸς γόνον,
Βάκχον Εὔιον ἡμῖν.
μύστις νάματος ᾖ Κύπρις
ὑμεναίους κροτοῦσα·
χάρασσ᾿ Ἔρωτας ἀνόπλους
καὶ Χάριτας γελώσας·
ὑπ᾿ ἄμπελον εὐπέταλον
εὐβότρυον κομῶσαν
σύναπτε κούρους εὐπρεπεῖς,
ἂν μὴ Φοῖβος ἀθύρῃ.
