Flavius, unless your delights
were tasteless and inelegant,
you’d want to tell, and couldn’t be silent.
Surely you’re in love with some feverish
little whore: you’re ashamed to confess it.
Now, pointlessly silent, you don’t seem to be
idle of nights, it’s proclaimed by your bed
garlanded, fragrant with Syrian perfume,
squashed cushions and pillows, here and there,
and the trembling frame shaken,
quivering and wandering about.
But being silent does nothing for you.
Why? Spread thighs blab it’s not so,
if not quite what foolishness you commit.
How and whatever you’ve got, good or bad,
tell us. I want to name you and your loves
to the heavens in charming verse.
'Being silent does nothing for you'! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
o girl here I proclaim, yeah I name thy love a heaven o yeah I name thee the loving tree where every fruit empowers the life earthly....
The portrayal of the scenario in the room, particularly bed and cushions, displays the anger and envy of the poetess. A well deserved classic poem of the day.
How and whatever you’ve got, good or bad, tell us. I want to name you and your loves to the heavens in charming verse.......fine concluding with lofty theme. Beautiful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
His subjects, and his openness of expression, will always be foundational.