Add this little book also from the Getic shore, O reader studious of us, to my four already sent.
This too will be such as is the fortune of the poet: you will find nothing sweet in the whole poem.
As our state is tearful, so is the song tearful, the writing agreeing with its own material.
§5.1.7integer et laetus laeta et iuvenalia lusi: §5.1.8illa tamen nunc me composuisse piget, §5.1.9ut cecidi, subiti perago praeconia casus, §5.1.10sumque argumenti conditor ipse mei.
Whole and joyful, I played joyful and youthful songs: yet now it repents me to have composed those, since I fell, I perform the announcements of my sudden ruin, and I myself am the creator of my own theme.
§5.1.11utque iacens ripa deflere Caystrius ales §5.1.12dicitur ore suam deficiente necem, §5.1.13sic ego, Sarmaticas longe proiectus in oras, §5.1.14efficio tacitum ne mihi funus eat.
And as the Caystrian bird lying on the bank is said to bewail its own death with failing voice, so I, cast far away onto Sarmatian shores, bring it about that my death does not pass in silence.
§5.1.15delicias siquis lascivaque carmina quaerit, §5.1.16praemoneo, non est scripta quod ista legat, §5.1.17aptior huic Gallus blandique Propertius oris, §5.1.18aptior, ingenium come, Tibullus erit.
If anyone seeks pleasures and wanton songs, I forewarn him, there is no reason why he should read these written things, Gallus is more fit for him, and Propertius of charming mouth, and Tibullus will be more fit, a polite genius.
§5.1.19atque utinam numero non nos essemus in isto!
And would that we were not in that number!
§5.1.20ei mihi, cur umquam Musa iocata mea est?
Ah me, why did my Muse ever play?
§5.1.21sed dedimus poenas, Scythicique in finibus Histri §5.1.22ille pharetrati lusor Amoris abest, §5.1.23quod superest, animos ad publica carmina flexi, §5.1.24et memores iussi nominis esse mei.
But I have paid the penalty, and in the territory of Scythian Hister that player of quiver-bearing Love is far away, as for what remains, I have turned my mind to public songs, and ordered them to be mindful of my name.
If, however, anyone of you asks why I sing of so many things to be lamented, I have borne many things to be lamented.
§5.1.27non haec ingenio, non haec componimus arte: §5.1.28materia est propriis ingeniosa malis, §5.1.29et quota fortunae pars est in carmine nostrae?
We compose these things not by genius, not by art: the material is made ingenious by its own misfortunes, and how small a part of our fortune is in the song?
§5.1.30felix, qui patitur quae numerare potest!
Happy is he who suffers what he is able to count!
§5.1.31quot frutices silvae, quot flavas Thybris harenas, §5.1.32mollia quot Martis gramina campus habet, §5.1.33tot mala pertulimus, quorum medicina quiesque §5.1.34nulla nisi in studio est Pieridumque mora.
As many shrubs as the forest, as many yellow sands as the Tiber, as many soft blades of grass as the Field of Mars has, so many misfortunes have we endured, for which there is no medicine nor rest except in study and lingering with the Muses.
§5.1.35quis tibi, Naso, modus lacrimosi carminis?
inquis §5.1.36idem, fortunae qui modus huius erit.
'What limit, Naso, is there to your tearful song?' you say the same limit which there will be to this fortune.
§5.1.37quod querar, illa mihi pleno de fonte ministrat, §5.1.38nec mea sunt, fati verba sed ista mei.
She supplies me with what to complain of from a full fountain, nor are those words mine, but of my fate.
§5.1.39at mihi si cara patriam cum coniuge reddas, §5.1.40sint vultus hilares, simque quod ante fui.
But if you should restore my country to me with my dear wife, my face would be cheerful, and I would be what I was before.
If the wrath of unconquered Caesar should be gentler to me, I will now give you songs full of joy.
Yet my letter will not play again as it played; let it have run riot once with my playfulness.
§5.1.45quod probet ipse, canam, poenae modo parte levata §5.1.46barbariam rigidos effugiamque Getas.
I will sing what he himself may approve, if only a part of my punishment is lightened and I escape the barbarous land and the unyielding Getai.
§5.1.47interea nostri quid agant, nisi triste, libelli?
Meanwhile, what should my little books do, except what is sad?
§5.1.48tibia funeribus convenit ista meis.
That pipe is suitable for my funeral.
§5.1.49at poteras
inquis ‘melius mala ferre silendo, §5.1.50et tacitus casus dissimulare tuos. ’ §5.1.51exigis ut nulli gemitus tormenta sequantur, §5.1.52acceptaque gravi vulnere flere vetas?
But you might say, 'You could have borne your evils better by being silent, and in silence concealed your misfortunes.' Do you demand that no groans follow tortures, and forbid to weep when a heavy wound has been received?
Phalaris himself permitted, in the bronze of Perillus, to utter bellows and complain through the mouth of the bull.
§5.1.55cum Priami lacrimis offensus non sit Achilles», §5.1.56tu fletus inhibes, durior hoste, meos?
When Achilles was not offended by the tears of Priam, do you restrain my weepings, harsher than an enemy?
When the offspring of Latona made Niobe childless, yet they did not command her to have dry cheeks.
It is something to lighten fatal misfortune through words: this makes Procne and Halcyone do what they did.
This was the reason why the son of Poeas in his cold cave would weary the Lemnian rocks with his voice.
Shut-in grief strangles and boils within, and is forced to multiply its own strength.
§5.1.65da veniam potius, vel totos tolle libellos, §5.1.66si mihi quod prodest hoc tibi, lector, obest,
Give pardon rather, or take away the whole of the little books, if what is useful to me, reader, is harmful to you.
But neither can it be harmful, nor have our writings been destructive to anyone except their own author.
§5.1.69at mala sunt. lateor.
'But they are bad.' I confess it.
quis te mala sumere cogit?
Who forces you to take up bad things?
§5.1.70aut quis deceptum ponere sumpta vetat?
Or who forbids you, having been deceived, to put down what you took up?
I myself do not correct them, but let them be read as they were spun out here; they are not more barbarous than their own location.
Nor ought Rome to compare me to her own poets: among the Sauromatae I was an ingenious one.
Finally, no glory is hunted by me, and that fame which is accustomed to apply spurs to geniuses.
I do not wish my mind to waste away with constant cares, which yet break in and go where they are forbidden.
§5.1.79cur scribam, docui, cur mittam, quaeritis, isto?
Why I write, I have taught; why I send it there, do you ask?
§5.1.80vobiscum cupio quolibet esse modo.
I desire to be with you in whatever way.