Homer, Iliad, 1.33-52
Dec. 21st, 2011 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbI am most certainly mad.
This he avowed. Afraid, the old man obeyed his speech,
silently departed along the dunes of the loud-roaring sea,
and when he'd gone far off, venerable age prayed
to Lord Apollo, who lovely-haired Leto bore.
"Give ear to me, O silver-bowed, you who have warded away harm from Chryses
and Killa, sacred Tenedos too, you who are mighty-ruling Sminthian lord!
If ever gracefully I crowned for you your holy dwelling
if ever I burned for you fat-rich shanks
of bulls and of wild goats, fulfill my longing!
Let the Danaans atone for my tears in your swift death-dealing darts."
This he avowed, praying. To him radiant Apollo attended,
down he went from Olympus' peak angry at heart
bow borne on his shoulders with his close-covered quiver:
arrows clashed - yes - on his wrathful shoulder
stirred up, he came - and seemed like night.
Then he crouched, far off from the ships; let fly an arrow:
- baleful the scream birthed by bright bow -
first to mules he dealt death, next swift-footed hounds,
then sending piercing shafts into the men, he cast them down:
corpse-pyres were ever kindled in crowds.
I know, it's not good poetry, and in order to be even remotely poetic I'm taking a few liberties. But it's good practice.
Happy Longest Night.
This he avowed. Afraid, the old man obeyed his speech,
silently departed along the dunes of the loud-roaring sea,
and when he'd gone far off, venerable age prayed
to Lord Apollo, who lovely-haired Leto bore.
"Give ear to me, O silver-bowed, you who have warded away harm from Chryses
and Killa, sacred Tenedos too, you who are mighty-ruling Sminthian lord!
If ever gracefully I crowned for you your holy dwelling
if ever I burned for you fat-rich shanks
of bulls and of wild goats, fulfill my longing!
Let the Danaans atone for my tears in your swift death-dealing darts."
This he avowed, praying. To him radiant Apollo attended,
down he went from Olympus' peak angry at heart
bow borne on his shoulders with his close-covered quiver:
arrows clashed - yes - on his wrathful shoulder
stirred up, he came - and seemed like night.
Then he crouched, far off from the ships; let fly an arrow:
- baleful the scream birthed by bright bow -
first to mules he dealt death, next swift-footed hounds,
then sending piercing shafts into the men, he cast them down:
corpse-pyres were ever kindled in crowds.
I know, it's not good poetry, and in order to be even remotely poetic I'm taking a few liberties. But it's good practice.
Happy Longest Night.
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no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 06:26 am (UTC)What's the hardest thing (phrase/technique/mood) from the original to get into English?
Anyway, if you're mad, you're in good company.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 06:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 06:24 am (UTC)What's the hardest thing (phrase/technique/mood) from the original to get into English?
no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 06:26 am (UTC)Well. Also, Greek poetry is metrical. And that's impossible for me to render.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-30 12:16 pm (UTC)Thank you!!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-30 12:19 pm (UTC)