Publius Ovidius Naso 43 BC – c. 17 AD
Love is a kind of warfare. Slackers, dismiss!
There are no cowards guarding this standard.
Night and winter, long roads and cruel sorrows,
and every kind of labour are found on love’s campaigns.
You’ll often endure rain pouring from heavenly clouds,
and frozen, lie there on the naked earth.
They say that Phoebus grazed Admetus’s cattle,
and found shelter in a humble hut.
Who can’t suit what suited Phoebus? Lose your pride,
you who’d have love’s sorrows tamed.
If you’re denied a safe and level road,
and the door barred with a bolt against you,
then drop down head-first through the open roof:
a high window too offers a secret way.
She’ll be glad, knowing the chase itself is risky for you:
that will be sure proof to the lady of your love.
You might often have been parted from your girl, Leander:
you swam across so she could know your heart.
Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2001 All Rights Reserved
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