Janitor — oh, unworthy sight! — bound with a hard chain, turn the hinge and open the difficult door!
What I pray for is a tiny thing — make it so that, with a small opening, the door, half-open, may receive my slanting side.
Long love has thinned my body for such uses, and by removing weight has given me suitable limbs.
He shows how to go gently through the guards' watches; he guides feet that stumble not.
But once I used to fear the night and empty phantoms; I used to wonder at whoever was going to travel in the darkness.
§1.6.11Risit, ut audirem, tenera cum matre Cupido §1.6.12Et leviter 'fies tu quoque fortis' ait. §1.6.13Nec mora, venit amor — non umbras nocte volantis, §1.6.14Non timeo strictas in mea fata manus.
Cupid, with his tender mother, laughed so that I might hear, and gently said: "You too shall become brave." And without delay, love came — I do not fear shadows flitting in the night, nor do I fear hands drawn against my fate.
I fear you, who are too unyielding; I flatter you alone; you hold the thunderbolt with which you can destroy me.
Look — so that you may see, relax the cruel barriers — how wet the door has become with my tears!
Surely I, when you stood with stripped clothing for your lashings, brought words to your mistress on behalf of your trembling self.
§1.6.21Ergo quae valuit pro te quoque gratia quondam — §1.6.22Heu facinus! — pro me nunc valet illa parum?
Therefore, the gratitude which once had power on your behalf also — alas, what a crime! — does it now have too little power for me?
§1.6.23Redde vicem meritis! grato licet esse quod optas.
Return the favor for my merits! You may be grateful, which you desire.
§1.6.24Tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
The hours of the night are passing; knock the bolt from the post!
Knock it! Thus, I say, may you be released from your long chain, nor may slave's water be drunk by you forever!
Iron-hearted janitor, you hear me praying in vain; the door, supported by hard oak, stands rigid.
Closed gates of defense are useful to besieged cities; but in the midst of peace, why do you fear weapons?
§1.6.31Quid facies hosti, qui sic excludis amantem?
What will you do to an enemy, you who thus shut out a lover?
§1.6.32Tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
The hours of the night are passing; knock the bolt from the post!
I do not come accompanied by soldiers and weapons; I would be alone, if savage Love were not present.
I cannot dismiss him anywhere, even if I should wish to; sooner would I be divided from my own limbs.
Therefore, Love and a little wine around my temples are with me, and a crown slipped from my wet hair.
§1.6.39Arma quis haec timeat? quis non eat obvius illis?
Who would fear these weapons? Who would not go to meet them?
§1.6.40Tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
The hours of the night are passing; knock the bolt from the post!
§1.6.41Lentus es: an somnus, qui te male perdat, amantis §1.6.42Verba dat in ventos aure repulsa tua?
You are sluggish: or does sleep, which may ruin you badly, scatter the lover's words to the winds, repulsed by your ear?
But, I remember, at first, when I wished to hide from you, you were awake all night under the stars of midnight.
Perhaps even now your girlfriend is resting with you — alas, how much better is your lot than mine!
§1.6.47Dummodo sic, in me durae transite catenae!
As long as it is so, pass onto me, hard chains!
§1.6.48Tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
The hours of the night are passing; knock the bolt from the post!
Am I deceived, or did the posts sound with a turned hinge, did the shaken door give its hoarse signals?
§1.6.51Fallimur — inpulsa est animoso ianua vento.
I am deceived — the door was pushed by a spirited wind.
§1.6.52Ei mihi, quam longe spem tulit aura meam!
Woe is me, how far the breeze has carried away my hope!
If you are sufficiently mindful, Boreas, of stolen Orithyia, come hither and beat these deaf doors with your blast!
They are silent in the whole city, and wet with glassy dew, the hours of the night are passing; knock the bolt from the post!
Or I myself, now better prepared with iron and fire, which I sustain with a torch, will attack this proud house.
Night and Love and wine persuade to nothing moderate; the former is free from shame, Liber and Love from fear.
I have exhausted everything, yet neither by prayers nor threats have we moved you, oh you who are harder than your own doors.
It did not suit you to guard the threshold of a beautiful girl; you were worthy of an anxious prison.
And now frosty Lucifer is steering his axle, and the winged bird rouses wretched men to their work.
But you, crown torn from my unhappy hair, lie upon the hard threshold all night long!
You will be a witness to your mistress, when she sees you cast aside in the morning, of time so badly wasted.
Farewell, whatever you are like, and receive the tribute of one departing; farewell, stubborn man, and shameful for not letting the lover in!