5th Century Poems

Epigram

Christodorus
Egyptian
c. 450 – c. 518

 

Here lies Joannes of Epidamnus, the far-shining ornament of ever brilliant consuls who spread abroad the sweet light of the Muses, and more than others amplified the work of hospitality, having a hand that fed all, and alone among men knew not any measure to limit its gifts.

He ornamented his lofty consular car with the laws of his country, making bright the works of pure justice.

Ye gods! he did not live long, but at the age of only forty-two departed this life, regretted by all poets, whom he loved more than his own parents.

Translation by W.R. Paton

The Chariot of Venus

Blossius Aemilius Dracontius
Tunisian
c. 455 – c. 505

Suddenly Cypris and her dove-drawn chariot
descended from the quarter where the fiery night
wheels its constellations over southern shores.
Her purple doves wore bridles woven out of flowers,
a red rose linked the gently undulating traces,
the birds’ beautiful yoke was lilies mixed with roses.
She flicked a purple whip to keep the team on course.
She steered the wing beats; she controlled the feathered oars.

Translation by Aaron Poochigian

Song of the Men of Chin-Ling

We present this work in honor of China’s National Day.

Xie Tiao
Chinese
464 – 499

 

Chiang-nan is a glorious and beautiful land,
And Chin-ling an exalted and kingly province!
The green canals of the city stretch on and on
And its high towers stretch up and up.
Flying gables lean over the bridle-road:
Drooping willows cover the Royal Aqueduct.
Shrill flutes sing by the coach’s awning,
And reiterated drums bang near its painted wheels.
The names of the deserving shall be carved on the Cloud Terrace.
And for those who have done valiantly rich reward awaits.

Translation by Arthur Waley

Proem to the Martyrdom of Cyprian

02-18 Eudocia
Aelia Eudocia
Greek
c. 401

 

When God in heaven brought light to earth
and the true voice of wondrous men was accomplished,
a life-producing radiance filled the whole world
through the words of (other) prophets, the evangelists.
For all robust men embraced one God,
the Heavenly Father, Lord of all, and his Son,
and in the name of the Holy Spirit were washed with water
from the many sins staining their bodies.

 

Translation by Brian P. Sowers

from The Baths at Hamat Gader

Aelia Eudocia
Greek
c. 401

 

I have seen many wonders in my life, countless,
But who, noble Clibanus, however many his mouths, could proclaim
Your might, when born a worthless mortal? But rather
It is right for you to be called a new fiery ocean,
Paean and parent, provider of sweet streams.
From you the thousandfold swell is born, one here, one there,
On this side boiling-hot, on that side in turn icy-cold and tepid.
Into fountains four-fold four you pour out your beauty.
Indian and Matrona, Repentius, holy Elijah,
Antoninus the Good, Dewy Galatia, and
Hygieia herself, warm baths both large and small,
Pearl, ancient Clibanus, Indian and other
Matrona, Strong, Nun, and the Patriarch’s.
For those in pain your powerful might is always everlasting.
But I will sing of a god, renowned for wisdom
For the benefit of speaking mortals.

Returning to Live in the Country

In honor of Dragon Boat Day, we present this work by one of the great poets of the Six Dynasties.

Tao Yuanming
Chinese
365 – 427

 

Young, I was always free of common feeling.
It was in my nature to love the hills and mountains.
Mindlessly I was caught in the dust-filled trap.
Waking up, thirty years had gone.
The caged bird wants the old trees and air.
Fish in their pool miss the ancient stream.
I plough the earth at the edge of South Moor.
Keeping life simple, return to my plot and garden.
My place is hardly more than a few fields.
My house has eight or nine small rooms.
Elm-trees and Willows shade the back.
Plum-trees and Peach-trees reach the door.
Misted, misted the distant village.
Drifting, the soft swirls of smoke.
Somewhere a dog barks deep in the winding lanes.
A cockerel crows from the top of the mulberry tree.
No heat and dust behind my closed doors.
My bare rooms are filled with space and silence.
Too long a prisoner, captive in a cage,
Now I can get back again to Nature.

Postscript Sent to a Traveler

Bao Linghui
Chinese
464 – ?

 

Ever since you went away
The face by the window has not lit up.
The clothes-pounder and block are mute at night;
The tall gates are closed during the day.
Into my bed curtains fireflies glide;
In front of the courtyard purple orchids bloom.
As nature withers, I know the season’s changing;
When wild geese arrive, I know the traveler is cold.
Your journey will end at winter’s close;
I’ll await your return at the start of spring.