Friday, April 07, 2006

Daphne and Apollo Translation

But your beauty prevents your wish, and your form disagrees with your prayer. Phoebus is loving that, which it is seen, and he desires a marriage Daphne’s, and because he desires, he hopes, and his oracle decieved him, in order to flatten the light stubble of grain, in order to often burn the torch, which a traveler lets them get too close, or forgets them in the morning, thus the god was killed in the flames, thus his whole heart was being burned and it was nourishing his barren desire with love. He watches her disordered hair hanging to her neck and sighs ‘What, if it is aranged?’ He sees her eyes twinkling similar to the stars, he sees the kiss, which was not seen enough; he praises her wrists and hands and fingers, and her arms bare to the shoulder, if it is hidden, he imagines better. She flees swifter than wind itself is light, and resists his words calling her back. “Nymph, I beg, of Peneus, wait! Your pursuer is not your enemy, Nymph, Wait! Thus sheep from a wolf, thus deer from a lion, thus doves flee from an eagle with frightening wings: everything flies from its enemy: I am striving for the sake of love! Pity me! Do not fall headfirst the thorns undeservedly scar your legs and maybe I am a cause of grief to you! The places are rough, through which you run. Slow down, I say, inhibit your running fleeing, and I will attack slower myself. Inquire however who you charm: not a mountain man, I am not a shepherd, not a horrible head of flocks that I see. You don’t know, rash one, you do not know, whom you flee from, and therefore you flee: Delphi’s lands are mine, and Claros and Tenedos, and Patara serve the kingdom; Jupiter is the creator; through me what was, what is, and what will be, are revealed. Through me strings harmonize a song. Indeed, our it is certain, but an arrow more reliable than ours has made a wound in the emptiness of my chest! Having found my medicine; and bringing help through the talking horizon, and my power is subject to herbs. But love cannot be healed by means of herbs, nor can the arts that cure others cure the master!”

More would have been said as timid Peneis ran fleeing, And with his own imperfect words leaving him, For it was fitting to see; they came to uncover the body, and in front of the way they

and the wind was giving incitement behind her hair, and the increasement caused the figure to flee. But the young god cannot bear to waste his pursuasive words further, and so he was moving towards love, at a quickeded pace, soon. Next he was going to spread out his search like a hound of Gaul. He sees her in an empty field and this dog, ready to snatch, she is in safety; like one about to pounce, he had hoped to snatch her, and grazes the heels of the hare with outstretched muzzle; thus the virgin and the god; he is driven by desire, she by fear. He ran faster and love aided him with wings. He did not allow pause and fled to her back, he breathed on the hair on the back of her neck.

Her courage fled her, and she began to turn rapidly pale, she was overcome by the efforts of her fleeing, and seeing Peneidas’s waves/waters. “Father,” she said, “If your waters have the divine power! Destroy my figure and what pleases so much!”

Scarecely finishing the prayer, numbness overcame her, her breast became enclosed in bark and her hair into leaves, her arms came forth as branches. Her feet so quick a moment ago, took root, her face had branches in it. Only her splendor was left.

Daphne baing changed into a tree, Phoebus still loved her, and he placed his right hand on the trunk. He experienced her heart, still under the bark and he stood before her branches, as though they were limbs, and gave a kiss to the bark: but the timber fled from his kiss.

The god said, “Because you are not able to be with me, you are certainly my tree. Laurel, with you my hair will be wreathed, with you my lyre, with you my quiver. You will be near the Roman leaders with happy Triumph Parades, your voice will sing and see Capitolia’s long procession.

You famously guard the doorpost for Augustus, and will remain before his doors, and in the middle you will protect the oak tree wreath, and just young, uncut head of hair, you will therefore carry honourable leaves.”

Apollo had finished by means of the new branches, like a head, she shook her branches.

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