“Fire-bearing love, if you haven’t the strength to light two equally afire
Either extinguish it or share the flame burning in only one.”
Εἰ δυσὶν οὐκ ἴσχυσας ἴσην φλόγα, πυρφόρε, καῦσαι,
τὴν ἑνὶ καιομένην ἢ σβέσον ἢ μετάθες.
ΕΥΔΟΞΑ ΑΓΝΩΣΤΑ ΚΑΤΑΓΕΛΑΣΤΑ
“After we bathe, Prodicê, let’s put on garlands and sip on
Unmixed wine, raising ever larger cups.
The time for rejoicing is brief: old age will slow
Our remaining days, and the final step is death.
Λουσάμενοι, Προδίκη, πυκασώμεθα καὶ τὸν ἄκρατον
ἕλκωμεν κύλικας μείζονας αἰρόμενοι.
βαιὸς ὁ χαιρόντων ἐστὶν βίος• εἶτα τὰ λοιπὰ
γῆρας κωλύσει, καὶ τὸ τέλος θάνατος. “
“If I saw you shining with dark hair
Or at another time with blond locks, mistress,
The same grace would gleam from both.
Love will make its home in your hair even when it’s gray.”
Εἴτε σε κυανέῃσιν ἀποστίλβουσαν ἐθείραις,
εἴτε πάλιν ξανθαῖς εἶδον, ἄνασσα, κόμαις,
ἴση ἀπ’ ἀμφοτέρων λάμπει χάρις. ἦ ῥά γε ταύταις
θριξὶ συνοικήσει καὶ πολιῇσιν ῎Ερως.
According to the Greek Anthology there was a temple to Apollônis, the mother of Attalos and Eumenes, at Cyzicos. The temple had at least nineteen epigrams inscribed on columns with accompanying relief images. All of the epigrams have mothers from myth and poetry as their subjects. The Eighth Epigram is on Odysseus’ mother Antikleia.
On the eighth tablet is the underworld visit of Odysseus. He addressed is own mother and asked her for news of his home.
“Wise-minded mother of Odysseus, Antikleia
You didn’t welcome your son home to Ithaka while alive.
Instead, he is shocked when his glance falls upon his sweet mother
Now wandering along the banks of Akheron.”
᾿Εν τῷ Η ἡ τοῦ ᾿Οδυσσέως νεκυομαντεία• καθέστηκεν τὴν ἰδίαν μητέρα ᾿Αντίκλειαν περὶ τῶν κατὰ τὸν οἶκον ἀνακρίνων
Μᾶτερ ᾿Οδυσσῆος πινυτόφρονος, ᾿Αντίκλεια,
ζῶσα μὲν εἰς ᾿Ιθάκην οὐχ ὑπέδεξο πάιν•
ἀλλά σε νῦν ᾿Αχέροντος ἐπὶ ῥηγμῖσι γεγῶσαν
θαμβεῖ, ἀνὰ γλυκερὰν ματέρα δερκόμενος.
Of course, this scene plays upon book 11 of the Odyssey doubly: the image recalls Odysseus describing his mother in the Odyssey and it also plays upon the Odyssey’s catalogue of heroic mothers motif, which it in turn shares with the fragmentary Hesiodic Catalogue Of Women.
11.84-89
“Then came the spirit of my mother who had passed away,
The daughter of great-hearted Autolykos, Antikleia
Whom I left alive when I went to sacred Troy.
When I saw her I cried and pitied her in my heart,
But I could not allow her to come forward to touch
The blood before I had learned from Teiresias.”
ἦλθε δ’ ἐπὶ ψυχὴ μητρὸς κατατεθνηυίης,
Αὐτολύκου θυγάτηρ μεγαλήτορος ᾿Αντίκλεια,
τὴν ζωὴν κατέλειπον ἰὼν εἰς ῎Ιλιον ἱρήν.
τὴν μὲν ἐγὼ δάκρυσα ἰδὼν ἐλέησά τε θυμῷ•
ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς εἴων προτέρην, πυκινόν περ ἀχεύων,
αἵματος ἄσσον ἴμεν πρὶν Τειρεσίαο πυθέσθαι.
Attalos, Eumenes and Apollônis? These were members of the Attalid clan who ruled from Pergamon during the Hellenistic period (after 241 BCE). Attalus I married Apollônis who was from Cyzicos.
Ep. 16.112
“My sculptor is more hateful than all the Dannaans: he’s another Odysseus,
since he made me a memento of a wretched and ruinous sickness.
The stone—rough, dirty, sick and drawn—wasn’t enough
But he has even shaped my pain in bronze.”
᾿Εχθρὸς ὑπὲρ Δαναοὺς πλάστης ἐμός, ἄλλος ᾿Οδυσσεύς,
ὅς μ’ ἔμνησε κακῆς οὐλομένης τε νόσου.
οὐκ ἤρκει πέτρη, τρῦχος, λύθρον, ἕλκος, ἀνίη,
ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν χαλκῷ τὸν πόνον εἰργάσατο.
“I have a wound from love: from it pours not blood
But tears and a scar will never close it.
I am undone by this evil and not even Makhaon
Could heal me by applying his gentle drugs.
I am Telephos, girl—be my faithful Achilles:
Stop this longing you caused with your beauty.”

῞Ελκος ἔχω τὸν ἔρωτα· ῥέει δέ μοι ἕλκεος ἰχὼρ
δάκρυον, ὠτειλῆς οὔποτε τερσομένης.
εἰμὶ καὶ ἐκ κακότητος ἀμήχανος, οὐδὲ Μαχάων
ἤπιά μοι πάσσει φάρμακα δευομένῳ.
Τήλεφός εἰμι, κόρη, σὺ δὲ γίνεο πιστὸς ᾿Αχιλλεύς·
κάλλεϊ σῷ παῦσον τὸν πόθον, ὡς ἔβαλες.
A few notes to make this make sense: In the Iliad Makhaon is a healer who ministers to the wounded captains. In myth, Telephos, a son of Herakles, is wounded by Achilles’ spear and can only be healed by the man who hurt him. Achilles encounters Telephos at the beginning of the war when the Greeks mistakenly attack Mysia (believing it to be Troy!). He is later healed in exchange for leading the Greeks to Troy.
So, this odd epigram becomes a tad bit odder thanks to knowing the references. It is ascribed to a poet named Macedonius and is in book 5 of The Greek Anthology (the Erotic Epigrams).
“Let’s bathe, Prodicus, and put on our crowns of wreathes,
and grabbing hold of bigger cups, we’ll drink life to the lees.
Short is life for those rejoicing, and old age hinders fun,
until death comes over us, and our life is done.”
More literally:
“Prodicus, once we have bathed, we will put on our crowns, and grabbing bigger cups, let’s drink our wine un-mixed. For the life of those who are happy is short, and then the rest is hindered by old age and, finally, death.”
λουσάμενοι, Προδίκη, πυκασώμεθα, καὶ τὸν ἄκρατον
ἕλκωμεν, κύλικας μείζονας αἰρόμενοι.
βαιὸς ὁ χαιρόντων ἐστὶν βίος: εἶτα τὰ λοιπὰ
γῆρας κωλύσει, καὶ τὸ τέλος θάνατος.
NOTE: There are a couple of tricky spots here in this short little epigram. πυκασώμεθα could refer to putting on crowns (garlands being not uncommon at drinking parties), but it can also simply mean “clothe ourselves.” I have preferred the former possibility as being ultimately more appropriate to the context.
Also, τὰ λοιπὰ could be the object of γῆρας κωλύσει, but it could also mean, in an adverbial sense, “for the remaining time.” Either way, the sense seems clear enough: old age and death are hindrances to happiness.
I, Rufinus, wish my sweetest Elpis much happiness, if indeed you can be happy without me. Oh, by your eyes! I no longer approve of this solitude-loving, single-couch separation from you! Ever with tear-soaked eyes I go to Koressos or the temple of great Artemis; but tomorrow my own country will welcome me, and I will fly to you. I wish you boundless strength!
Ῥουφῖνος τῇ μῇ γλυκερωτάτῃ Ἐλπίδι πολλὰ
χαίρειν, εἰ χαίρειν χωρὶς ἐμοῦ δύναται.
οὐκέτι βαστάζω, μὰ τὰ ς᾽ ὄμματα, τὴν φιλέρημον
καὶ τὴν μουνολεχῆ σεῖο διαζυγίην
ἀλλ᾽ αἰεὶ δακρύοισι πεφυρμένος ἢ πὶ Κορησσὸν
ἔρχομαι ἢ μεγάλης νηὸν ἐς Ἀρτέμιδος.
αὔριον ἀλλὰ πάτρη με δεδέξεται: ἐς δὲ σὸν ὄμμα
πτήσομαι, ἐρρῶσθαι μυρία ς᾽ εὐχόμενος.
This is a bit of an odd poem. The middle is more or less a straightforward amatory epigram, but the first and last lines give it something of an epistolary feel. Having no talent for verse translation, I have just included a regular piece of prose, which perhaps heightens the sense that this is just a letter.