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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Martial "Erotion" translations

Epitaph for the Child Erotion
by Marcus Valerius Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lie lightly on her, grass and dew ...
So little weight she placed on you.

I created this translation after the Nashville Covenant school shooting and dedicated it to the victims of the massacre.

Erotion (I)
by Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To you, my departed parents, dear mother and father,
I commend my little lost angel, Erotion, love’s daughter.
who died six days short of completing her sixth frigid winter.
Protect her now, I pray, should the chilling dark shades appear;
muzzle hell’s three-headed hound, less her heart be dismayed!
Lead her to romp in some sunny Elysian glade,
her devoted patrons. Watch her play childish games
as she excitedly babbles and lisps my name.
Let no hard turf smother her softening bones; and do
rest lightly upon her, earth, she was surely no burden to you!

Erotion (II)
by Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To you, my departed parents, with much emotion,
I commend my little lost darling, my much-kissed Erotion,
who died six days short of completing her sixth bitter winter.
Protect her, I pray, from hell’s hound and its dark shades a-flitter;
and please don’t let fiends leave her maiden heart dismayed!
But lead her to romp in some happy Elysian glade
with her cherished friends, excitedly lispingly my name.
Let no hard turf smother her softening bones; and do
rest lightly upon her, earth, she was such a slight burden to you!
—Martial, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

NOTES: Martial wrote this touching elegy for a little slave girl, Erotion, who died six days before her sixth birthday. The poem has been nominated as Martial’s masterpiece by L. J. Lloyd and others. Erotion means “little love” and may correspond to our term “love child.” It has been suggested that Erotion may have been Martial’s child by a female slave. That could explain why Martial is asking  his parents’ spirits to welcome, guide and watch over  spirit. Martial uses the terms patronos (patrons) and commendo (commend); in Rome a freed slave would be commended to a patron. A girl freed from slavery by death might need patrons as protectors on the “other side,” according to Greek and Roman views of the afterlife, where the afterworld houses evil shades and is guarded by a monstrous three-headed dog, Cerberus. Martial is apparently asking his parents to guide the girl’s spirit away from Cerberus and the dark spirits to the heavenly Elysian fields where she can play and laugh without fear. If I am correct, Martial’s poem is not just an elegy, but a prayer-poem for protection, perhaps of his own daughter. Albert A. Bell supports this hypothesis with the following arguments: (1) Martial had Erotion cremated, a practice preferred by the upper classes, (2) “he buried her with the full rites befitting the child of a Roman citizen,” (3) he entrusted her [poetically] to his parents, and (4) he maintained her grave for years.

Keywords/Tags: Martial, translation, Latin, Erotion, daughter, slave, six years old, turf, bones, earth, burden, patrons, shades



Coq au vin
by Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you merely an éclair to the greedy?

2.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you **** Amaro to the greedy?

Amaro is an after-dinner liqueur thought to aid the digestion after a large meal.

3.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you an aperitif to the greedy?

4.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but they’re pimps to the seedy.

Ad cenam invitant omnes te, Phoebe, cinaedi.
mentula quem pascit, non, ****, purus **** est.

These are my modern English translations of Latin poems by the English monk Gildas. Gildas, also known as Gildas Sapiens (“Gildas the Wise”), was a 6th-century British monk who is one of the first native writers of the British Isles we know by name. Gildas is remembered for his scathing religious polemic De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae (“On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain” or simply “On the Ruin of Britain”). The work has been dated to circa 480-550 AD.

“Alas! The nature of my complaint is the widespread destruction of all that was good, followed by the wild proliferation of evil throughout the land. Normally, I would grieve with my motherland in her travail and rejoice in her revival. But for now I restrict myself to relating the sins of an indolent and slothful race, rather than the feats of heroes. For ten years I kept my silence, I confess, with much mental anguish, guilt and remorse, while I debated these things within myself...” — Gildas, The Ruin of Britain, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Gildas is also remembered for his “Lorica” (“Breastplate”):

“The Lorica of Loding” from the Book of Cerne
by Gildas
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Trinity in Unity, shield and preserve me!
Unity in Trinity, have mercy on me!

Preserve me, I pray, from all dangers:
dangers which threaten to overwhelm me
like surging sea waves;
neither let mortality
nor worldly vanity
sweep me away from the safe harbor of Your embrace!

Furthermore, I respectfully request:
send the exalted, mighty hosts of heaven!
Let them not abandon me
to be destroyed by my enemies,
but let them defend me always
with their mighty shields and bucklers.

Allow Your heavenly host
to advance before me:
Cherubim and Seraphim by the thousands,
led by the Archangels Michael and Gabriel!

Send, I implore, these living thrones,
these principalities, powers and Angels,
so that I may remain strong,
defended against the deluge of enemies
in life’s endless battles!

May Christ, whose righteous Visage frightens away foul throngs,
remain with me in a powerful covenant!

May God the Unconquerable Guardian
defend me on every side with His power!

Free my manacled limbs,
cover them with Your shielding grace,
leaving heaven-hurled demons helpless to hurt me,
to pierce me with their devious darts!

Lord Jesus Christ, be my sure armor, I pray!

Cover me, O God, with Your impenetrable breastplate!

Cover me so that, from head to toe,
no member is exposed, within or without;
so that life is not exorcized from my body
by plague, by fever, by weakness, or by suffering.

Until, with the gift of old age granted by God,
I depart this flesh, free from the stain of sin,
free to fly to those heavenly heights,
where, by the grace of God, I am borne in joy
into the cool retreats of His heavenly kingdom!

Amen
Broadsky Mar 2020
"be careful with me"

I remember saying to you

"because I break easily"

but like a child playing in their yard you kicked me around like a ***** ball

looking up at the sky I've started to wonder why I'm spending all my time running around with you

lying on my back I'm bracing for the impact of your next kick

because this is child's play

in a realm with no rules

so you can do whatever you want

and I'll just be here

hoping it will be different tomorrow
things were so different six months ago
Bhill Mar 2020
what the ****, oh golly, oh dear
I’m really not, sarcastic here
the world is crazy and I am a-feard
the man in charge needs to be commandeered
he has no sense, common or other
what should we do, let’s go ask our mother
she’ll probably tell us to stay inside
let’s do what she says, let's have a safe ride
it’s really not hard to stay away from the threat
keep six feet away and don't play roulette....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 84
Well...  It's true!
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2019
Life's a cage not a stage
Day 12: write your life story in six words
Another user Nov 2019
dad
Oh, how I wish I never met you.
You sculpted me into the person I am today.
You taught me to be an amazing human being with out you.
You once said,
I’m insecure and I will always need a man.
But you know what?
If a man is anything like you,
I will never need or want one.
You once told me I was a loser,
But if I was a loser I’d be a beautiful loser.
You once said if I died you’d be happy
But if I died, I’d haunt until the day you died.
Maybe make you feel the way you made me feel.
Dad, I don’t need you. And I don’t want to need you either.
Vic Oct 2019
Catherine of Aragon                                                           ­            Divorced
Anne Boleyn                                                           ­                        Beheaded
Jane Seymour                                                          ­                                Died
Anna of Cleves                                                           ­                     Divorced
Catherine Howard                                                           ­              Beheaded
Catherine Parr                                                             ­                     Survived


Now we're Ex-Wives                                  


History's about to get                  

O v e r t h r o w n                                                                ­        


Let me tell you a story
Tha you think you've heard before                                  

Now we're, ex-wives


Divorced                                            ­                                            
Beheaded          ­                                                            
Died                                                          ­  
Divorced                                
Beheaded                
Survived

Welcome to the show,                                    
To The                                                    
H i s t o r e m i x                                            

Switching up the flow as we add the prefix                  

Everybody knows that we used to be six wives            
  

Get your hands up get this party   b u z z i n g            
You want a queen bee, well there's half a dozen            


Everybody knows that we used to be six wives
But now we're ex-wives


One                                                 ­                                       
Two                                                             ­                           
Three                                                           ­                           
Four                                 ­                                                       
Five     ­                                                                 ­                  
Six                                                           ­         

Ex-Wives
Can we all agree that I'm the 10 amongst these 3's?
If six were nine
And Jimi Hendrix a nun
Would nine be none
Null and nil ?
And if sixth were ninth
And Jimi Hendrix a ninja
Falling like a sun into the sea mountains
on Ninety-null street
The world famous Quatre-vingt-dix-nullième rue
Would you mind ? Would you mind ?
Would you mind if September stopped to exist
And all the dead of September came back from Null None or Nil
And Jimi Hendrix were seventy-six.
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