t e r r i b l y  c u n e i f o r m

The Pine

Some woodmen, bent a forest pine to split,
Into each fissure sundry wedges fit,
To keep the void and render work more light.
Out groaned the pine, “Why should I vent my spite
Against the axe which never touched my root,
So much as these cursed wedges, mine own fruit;
Which rend me through, inserted here and there!”

A fable this, intended to declare
That not so dreadful is a stranger’s blow
As wrongs which men receive from those they know.

The Young Cocks

Two Tanagraean cocks a fight began;
Their spirit is, ’tis said, as that of man:
Of these the beaten bird, a mass of blows,
For shame into a corner creeping goes;
The other to the housetop quickly flew,
And there in triumph flapped his wings and crew.
But him an eagle lifted from the roof,
And bore away. His fellow gained a proof
That oft the wages of defeat are best,–
None else remained the hens to interest.

Wherefore, O man, beware of boastfulness:
Should fortune lift thee, others to depress,
Many are saved by lack of her caress.

Jupiter and the Monkey

A baby-show with prizes Jove decreed
For all the beasts, and gave the choice due heed.
A monkey-mother came among the rest;
A naked, snub-nosed pug upon her breast
She bore, in mother’s fashion. At the sight
Assembled gods were moved to laugh outright.
Said she, “Jove knoweth where his prize will fall!
I know my child’s the beauty of them all.”

This fable will a general law attest,
That each one deems that what’s his own, is best.

The Mouse That Fell Into The Pot

A mouse into a lidless broth-pot fell;
Choked with the grease, and bidding life farewell,
He said, “My fill of meat and drink have I
And all good things: ‘Tis time that I should die.”
Thou art that dainty mouse among mankind,
If hurtful sweets are not by thee declined.

The Lamp

A lamp that swam with oil, began to boast
At eve, that it outshone the starry host,
And gave more light to all. Her boast was heard:
Soon the wind whistled; soon the breezes stirred,
And quenched its light. A man rekindled it,
And said, “Brief is the faint lamp’s boasting fit,
But the starlight ne’er needs to be re-lit.”

Translations by James Davies in Library Of The World’s Best Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol 3 [Gutenberg edition].

Derek Mahon

(De Rerum Natura 6, 451-523)

Clouds take shape in the blue sky and gather
where flying bodies get tangled up together;
tiny clouds are borne along by breezes
till the moment when a stronger current rises.
Hills, for instance: the higher up the peak
the more industriously they seem to smoke;
wind blows these wisps on to the mountain tops
while they are still vague, evanescent strips
and there, heaped up in greater quantity,
they reveal themselves as a visible entity
trailing from snowy summits into the ether,
the empyrean spaces torn by wind and weather.
Steam rises from the sea, as becomes clear
when clothes on the shore absorb the salty air;
particles rise from rivers and wet slopes
while the sky, weighing upon them, packs them tight
and weaves them closely like a linen sheet.
Some come from space, as I’ve explained before,
their number infinite, their source obscure,
and these can travel at the speed of light.
No wonder the storm clouds, so fast and thick,
darkening fields and sea, slide up so quick
since from the blow-holes of the outer spheres,
as a our own windpipes. our glands and pores
the elements come and go, mysterious and opaque,
through ducts and channels, roois and corridors
as if in a house of opening, closing doors.
As for the rain clouds, how they come to grow
and fall as rain on the drinking earth below –
a multitude of life-germs, water semen, floats
with cloud stuff and secretions of all sorts,
both swollen up, the fat clouds and whatever
solution is in the clouds themselves, cloud-water,
as our own bodies grow with the serum, gism,
sweat, whatever fluid is in the organism;
also they draw up brine with streaming sieves
when wind drives the clouds over the waves,
hoisting it from the surface in dripping fleeces
(same thing with bogs and other soggy places).
When all these water-sources come together
clouds discharge their excess moisture either
by ganging up in a bunch to crush each other
till tears flow; or else, blown thin by winds
and sun-struck, they give off drizzling rains
as wax held to a brazier melts and runs.
Sometimes the two things coincide, of course,
the violent pushing and the rushing wind-force,
and then you get a cloudburst which persists
with clouds upon clouds, tempests upon tempests
pouring out of the heavens, soaking the smoky air
while the earth breathesbhack in bubbles everywhere.