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Roses, Wine, and Pretty Curls

Anacreonta 44

“Let’s mix the Loves’ rose
In with Dionysus.
Once we fit that fine-leaved
Rose to our temples,
Let’s drink and giggle.

Rose, the best blossom,
Rose, the spring’s crush,
Rose, a pleasure even to gods,
Rose, the flower Aphrodite’s child
Uses to tie up his pretty curls,
When he dances along with the Graces.

Crown me! And while I play
The lyre in your sacred places, Dionysus,
I will dance, my head covered
With garlands of rose
Alongside a deep-chested girl.”

τὸ ῥόδον τὸ τῶν Ἐρώτων
μίξωμεν Διονύσῳ·
τὸ ῥόδον τὸ καλλίφυλλον
κροτάφοισιν ἁρμόσαντες
πίνωμεν ἁβρὰ γελῶντες.

ῥόδον, ὦ φέριστον ἄνθος,
ῥόδον εἴαρος μέλημα,
ῥόδα καὶ θεοῖσι τερπνά,
ῥόδον, ᾧ παῖς ὁ Κυθήρης
στέφεται καλοὺς ἰούλους
Χαρίτεσσι συγχορεύων·

στεφάνου με, καὶ λυρίζων
παρὰ σοῖς, Διόνυσε, σηκοῖς
μετὰ κούρης βαθυκόλπου
ῥοδίνοισι στεφανίσκοις
πεπυκασμένος χορεύσω.

Mikhail Larionov, “Dancing Soldiers” 1910
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