ERINNA
(Ἠλακάτη – Ἤριννα – English translation)
NOTE: The original poem by Erinna is 300 lines long, according to the Suda. As of now less than 60 incomplete lines remain.
]
] being there
] girls
] brides;
] tortoise
] the Moon.
] tortoise.
] you forget
] lived;
] the leaves
] you soften.
] the Moon
] a ewe-lamb sheared
] into a deep wave;
White, wild they were, that you leapt your feet from the steeds.
Ay ay! I – loudly – called. My dear. You, being the Tortoise,
Leaping friskily, dashed through the pastoral courtyard.
All these for you, poor Baucis, with grievous groans I lament;
All these – for me in my heart, my girl – in lingerings lay
Warm still. Yet that which we made game of are but coals now;
And dolls we used to have as girls in our chambers, that like
Brides they nearly seemed, with us carefree. And she at dawn
– Your mother – she would’ve had wool to give the spinsters;
She’d come and, having some meat, call you down to salt it.
We – little, then – both feared being whisked away by Mormo
Who in sooth from her head's sides grew huge ears, with feet roaming
On all fours; from one form to another she'd remould her looks.
Yet when to the bed of a man you went, was when all this you'd kicked off:
These things – while still a babe – that from your mother you'd heard,
Baucis, dear. Amnesia was at once in your wits, set down by Aphrodite.
Therefore, for you bewailing, your funeral rites I now neglect.
For incapable my feet are of leaving the house into open grounds; –
Nor to see it in daylight do I wish, your corpse; – nor to groan
With uncovered unbound hair, after crimson shame
Strips my roundly tear-drenched [
Yet ever before [
Nineteenth [⠀⠀⠀] year
And Erinna, too, your dear [
A distaff beheld [
You'd known that, see: [
Roundly twirled about your chuckling [
These things a shame for me [
Girls [
Yet you looking upon [
And unbound hair [⠀⠀⠀] women
Gentle-worded, gray-haired, their aged blossoms perishable.
Therefore you, my dear, [
Baucis, bewailing I [
Would a flame itself [
A roaring I hear [
O many from Hymenaios [
Many you touch [
All in one, O Hymenaios, [
Alas! poor Baucis; [