Palladas:
The Other Half Speaks Out
Greek Anthology 9.773
Χαλκοτύπος τὸν Ἔρωτα μεταλλάξας ἐπόησε
τήγανον, οὐκ ἀλόγως, ὅττι καὶ αὐτὸ φλέγει.
A bronze-smith, melting down Eros, fashioned
a frying pan - not unreasonably, since that too burns.
From Fat to Frying Pan
First he burned with words, kisses;
Promising a life together, a few kids.
And then it was: where’s my breakfast?
Or, I don’t like my eggs done like this.
Time, like an alchemist or blacksmith,
Has hammered out love, our own Eros,
Shrunk it down, from fat to frying pan.
Never mind: now it is my turn to burn
The best bacon. To waste his good eggs.
Greek Anthology 11.287
ὁ τὴν γυναῖκα τὴν ἄμορφον δυστυχῶν,
λύχνους ἀνάψας ἑσπέρας βλέπει σκότος
Cursed with an ugly wife, when he lights
the evening candles, he still sees only gloom
Holding a Candle
When I hear his step on the stair,
See the flicker of the evening light
On his yellow teeth or thinning hair
As he peers into that gloomy night,
I turn my face to the peeling wall.
I dream of the lips of my first love
While he snores on or snuffles off.
He couldn’t even hold a candle.
Greek Anthology 11.306
ἂν μετ᾽ Ἀλεξάνδρειαν ἐς Ἀντιόχειαν ἀπέλθῃς,
καὶ μετὰ τὴν Συρίην Ἰταλίας ἐπιβῇς,
τῶν δυνατῶν οὐδείς σε γαμήσει: τοῦτο γὰρ αἰεὶ
οἰομένη πηδᾷς εἰς πόλιν ἐκ πόλεως.
Even if, after Alexandria, you leave for Antioch,
and, after Syria, you then arrive in Italy,
no powerful man will marry you; for ever
in hope, you will hop from city to city.
All the Same
(i)
You might say: “Time to look for another spot,
Kiss goodbye to Alexandria, head for Antioch
Or Italy – to find a man who is rich or powerful
(Or both).” But just as you are unmarriageable
In this one city, so you will always be alone
As you hop from bed to bed, time zone to time zone.
(ii)
Yes, I’m the woman who’s had her fair ration From A to A, I have run the full gamut of men:
The losers, the liars, the cheats without shame.
Here’s a flash: world over, they’re all the same.
New Papyrus, p.3, 18-32
Another one against [?] slavish [?]...
Beans, which are now called ‘faba’...Very hateful indeed to Pythagoras of
Samos. We will continue to hold to that man’s warning: that it is
equivalent...both to eat beans and the heads of our fathers...related..melted in
fire.. .the most ridiculous thing... and the flesh of four-footed
animals...food..Pythagoras...very much indeed...Pythagoras...take on..all kinds
of food..
Against Slavish Fads
Flageolets (which used to be plain ‘beans’)
Are never, ever eaten by the Pythagoreans.
They all defer to the great man’s dictums:
Dining on beans, it seems, is prohibited Like boiling dear old Dad’s bald head.
And alcohol? Well, that too is verboten:
As fire melts iron, they say, so wine, wisdom.
You ask what could be more ridiculous?
They also hate meat, disdain its finest cuts.
God help the woman who takes on the task
Of shopping –or even catering – for Pythagoras.
New Papyrus p.15. 20-24
On...
Alas, o honourable woman, the...clever
hair-splittings...if, on account of the
rich...and their wives.... but you...just the
same...
On Honour Among Wives
‘Respectable’ women are the ones to beware;
They open their legs and then they split hairs
With such clever talk about ‘minor infidelities’ What constitutes ‘cheating’, or counts as a ‘lie’.
The rich, most of all, should proceed with care,
Those wealth creators – at least for their wives.
You think you bought a spouse, a slave in name?
You know what your wife thinks? Just the same.
New Papyrus, p 18, 1-9
...is weakened, for the help from... I babble...and
a mist steals over my eyes...my...is being
supported [nourished? well-grown?] ...to the
soles of my feet...I am becoming paler...it will be
necessary for one who has fainted [endured?]...
Sappho 31
Palladas
It seems to me that man is equal to the gods,
that is, whoever sits opposite you
and, drawing nearer, savours, as you speak,
the sweetness of your voice
and the thrill of your laugh, which have so
stirred the heart
in my own breast, that whenever I catch
sight of you, even if for a moment,
then my voice deserts me
and my tongue is struck silent, a delicate fire
suddenly races underneath my skin,
my eyes see nothing, my ears whistle like
the whirling of a top
and sweat pours down me and a trembling
creeps over
my whole body, I am greener than grass,
at such times I seem to be no more than
a step away from death;
[but all can be endured since even a poor
man....]
...is weakened, for the help
from...I babble...and a mist
steals over my eyes...my...is
being supported
[nourished? well-grown?]
...to the soles of my feet...I
am becoming paler...it will
be necessary for one who
has fainted [endured?]...
Love in Old Age
As soon as I sit next to her, my bones creak;
There’ s no help for it as my knees turn weak.
My words tangle, my tongue lisps and twists;
My voice grates and then her eyes start to mist.
My pot belly swells, begins to quiver A fine figure (if I don’t look in mirror).
A fire shoots down to the tip of my toes
As my gout flares up, takes its endless hold.
I seem to fade away, I am paler
Than stale piss, faint from high blood pressure...
But believe you me, all can be lived through For even an old man might one day pull...
New Papyrus, p.10, 24-9
Another One...
If we wish to put an end to the discord and the strife, I
would like to introduce a motion, a truly marvellous
one: let us appoint ambassadors to go down to Pluto. –
Whom, then, shall we persuade? – It’s not impossible.
Pay out five talents and Heron will be persuaded again.
Another Cunning Plan
If we want to end conflict, put peace in place,
I have a cunning plan, yes, truly otherworldly:
Send envoys down to all the soldiers in Hades;
Canvass those who paid the price, face to face.
But who might undertake the task? No worries.
Put up five million - and Tony Blair is on the case.