Into the depths compacted and compressed.
For only then the limbs relax and lie.
For there is no doubt that by the work of the spirit
920
Sensation comes, and when sleep deadens it
We must suppose that the spirit has been disordered
And quite cast out; not all of it; for then the body
Would lie steeped in the eternal chill of death.
Since if no part of the spirit remained hidden
925
In our body, as fire lies covered deep in ashes,
Whence could our feeling suddenly through the limbs
Rekindle, as flame leaps from hidden fire?
But by what cause this new state comes to pass
And whence the spirit can be disordered, and how
The body made to languish, I will explain.
930
Please see that my words are not wasted on the winds.
First it must be that since the body is touched
By the motions of the air surrounding it
Its outer part by frequent blows of air
Is thumped and buffeted; and that is why
Nearly all things that live and grow are covered
935
By skin or even shells or rind or bark.
The body’s inside also when we breathe
This same air strikes, drawn in and out. And so
Since the body is beaten outside and in, and since
The blows through tiny channels penetrate
940
The primary parts and primal elements,
Slowly, collapse (as it were) occurs in the limbs.
The atoms of mind and body are dislodged
From their positions. Next part of the spirit
Is ejected out, and part withdraws within,
945
And part also is scattered through the body
And so cannot unite and combine in motion.
For nature blocks the paths and meeting places,
So feeling sinks down deep when the motions are changed.
And since there is nothing to prop up the limbs,
950
The body becomes weak, the limbs grow faint,
Arms and eyelids fall, and as we lie down
The knees give way and all their strength is gone.
Again sleep follows food, since it acts like air
When it has dissolved through all the veins.
955
And much the deepest sleep is that which comes
From satiety or weariness, for then
The greatest number of atoms is disordered,
Bruised by much labour. Of the spirit too
In the same way a part is thrown together
At a greater depth, and the part ejected is greater,
960
And the separations and divisions magnified.
And those pursuits which most we love to follow,
The things in which just now we have been engaged,
The mind being thus the more intent upon them,
These are most oft the substance of our dreams.
965
Lawyers argue their cases and make laws,
Generals fight battles, leading troops to war,
Sailors pursue their struggles with the wind,
And I ply my own task and seek the nature of things
Always, and tell them in our native tongue.
970
All other pursuits and arts seem thus in dreams
To hold the minds of men with their illusions.
When men have been to games and theatres
For many days, we usually see,
When they have ceased to observe these with their senses,
975
That paths are left still open in the mind
By which the images of these things can enter.
For many days then these same things are moving
Before their eyes, so that even while awake
They seem to see dancers swaying supple limbs,
980
And the lyre’s liquid notes and speaking strings
Enter their ears, and the same audience
They see and the varied glories of the stage.
So great is the effect of interest and pleasure
And of things which form the habits of men’s lives,
985
Not only of men, but of all animals.
You will see horses, when they lie in sleep,
Break out in sweat and panting hard and fast
As if straining every nerve to win a race,
Or plunging from the opened starting gates.
990
And often hounds lying in gentle sleep
Suddenly throw up their legs and all at once
Give tongue and keenly sniff the air, as if
They have found and held the scent of some wild beast.
And even when awake they often chase
995
Phantoms of stags as though they saw them in flight
Until, the error spent, they come to their senses.
A litter of soft puppies, household pets,
Will shake themselves and jump up, just as if
1000
They saw the forms and faces of strangers coming in.
And the fiercer the breed, the wilder it is in its dreams.
And birds fly up and suddenly at night
With whirring wings disturb the gods’ dark groves,
If in their quiet sleep dreams come to them
Of hawks stooping to the fray in hot pursuit.
1010
And mighty men do mighty deeds in dreams.
Kings conquer, and are captured, and give battle,
And scream with the assassin’s dagger at their throats,
All without moving from the spot. Men fight
1015
And groan in pain and fill the air with cries
As if in the jaws of a panther or a lion.
And men in sleep things of great moment tell
And by their words themselves betray their guilt.
Many meet death. And many from high cliffs
1020
Feeling themselves falling are beside themselves
And start from sleep almost out of their minds, and hardly
Recover from the torment of their body.
A thirsty man oft sits beside a river
Or pleasant spring and nearly drinks it up.
1025
And often boys held fast in sleep believe
They are standing by a privy or chamber pot
Lifting their clothes, and pour out all the fluid
That has filtered through their body and drench the sheets
And splendid Babylonian coverlets.
And others, when the seed first penetrates
1030
The racing tides of youth, as time matures it,
Meet with a wandering image from some body
That tells of lovely face and rosy cheeks,
And this excites the parts swelling with seed,
And so, as if the act were being performed,
1035
They pour a great flood out and stain their clothes.
This seed I speak of is stirred up in us
As soon as manhood in our limbs grows strong.
And different things respond to different forces.
But only man from man draws human seed.
1040
As soon as seed comes out from its retreats,
It travels through every member of the body
And gathers in a fixed place in the loins
And arouses straight away the genital parts.
The parts swell with the seed, then comes desire
1045
To eject it where the dire craving pulls
And the body seeks that which has wounded the mind with love.
For men in battle fall towards a wound
And th
e blood spurts out in the direction of the blow
1050
And if he is close the foe is drenched in blood.
So therefore when the shafts of Venus strike,
Whether a boy with girlish limbs has thrown it
Or a woman from her whole body launches love,
He leans towards the blow, desires to unite,
1055
And cast the fluid from body into body;
His speechless yearning tells of bliss to come.
This is our Venus; hence the name of love;
Hence into the heart distilled the drop
Of Venus’ sweetness, and numbing heartache followed.
1060
For if what you love is absent, none the less
Its images are there, and the sweet name
Sounds in your ears. Ah, cursed images!
Flee them you must and all the food of love
Reject, and turn the mind away, and throw
The pent-up fluid into other bodies,
1065
And let it go, not with one single love
Straitjacketed, not storing in your heart
The certainty of endless cares and pain.
For feeding quickens the sore and strengthens it,
And day by day the madness grows and woe
Is heaped on woe, unless the first wounds by new blows
1070
Are deadened and while the wound’s still fresh you cure it
By wandering with Venus of the streets,
Or to some newer purpose turn your mind.
And by avoiding love you need not miss
The fruits that Venus offers, but instead
You may take the goods without the penalty.
For sure from this a purer pleasure comes
1075
To the healthy than to the lovesick. Yes, for in
The moment of possession lovers’ minds
Are all at sea storm-tossed, confused, and can’t
Decide what first to enjoy with eye or hand,
They hurt the body they love, so close they press,
They kiss so fiercely that teeth enter lips,
1080
All this because the pleasure is not pure,
And hidden stings there are which make them harm
Whatever it be from which the frenzy comes.
But in their loving Venus lightly lifts
The penalties she inflicts, and soothing pleasure
1085
Holds back the sting; for there is hope in it
That the same body whence the frenzy came
May have the power also to quench the fire—
And that does nature totally reject.
This is the only thing for which the more we have
The more the heart burns with fell desire for it.
1090
For food and drink are taken into the body
And since they can enter their appointed places
Easily the desire for water and bread is met.
But from a pretty face or rosy cheeks
Nothing comes into the body to enjoy
1095
But images, thin images, fond hopes,
For often they are scattered to the winds.
As when in dreams a thirsty man seeks water
And none is given to quench the fire within
But he seeks the image of the water all in vain
And standing in a river thirsts while he drinks,
1100
So in love Venus mocks lovers with images.
They cannot satisfy their eyes with looking,
Nor with hands wandering aimless o’er the body
Can they glean anything from tender limbs;
And when at last with body clasped to body
1105
They pluck the flower of youth, when body knows
The bliss to come and Venus is ready, poised
To sow the fields of love, they cling together
Mouth pressed to watering mouth and lips to lips
Drawing deep breaths as body calls to body.
In vain. For they can rub nothing off from it,
1110
Neither can body be absorbed in body.
For that sometimes they seem to want and strive for,
So ardently in Venus’ toils they cling
Their limbs with rapture liquefied and melted.
At last when all the pent-up lust is spent
1115
There comes a brief pause in the raging fever;
But then the fit returns, madness comes back,
They ask themselves what it is they are craving for,
They can find no device to cure their ill,
Bewildered and confused they waste away,
The hapless victims of an unseen wound.
1120
And add this also, they consume their strength,
The effort kills them; and their days are passed
Obeying another’s whim. Wealth vanishes
Turned into Babylonian coverlets.
Duties neglected, reputation falls.
For her, soft lovely slippers from Sicyon
1125
Shine on her feet, great emeralds set in gold
Glow with green light, the sea-blue dress well worn
In constant use absorbs the sweat of Venus.
The family’s wealth, hard earned, binds up her hair
Turned into a tiara or becomes
A gown of silk from Elis or from Ceos.
1130
Banquets with shining tables and rich fare,
Wines, dancers, ointments, garlands, ribbons—
All useless; since from the very fount of joy
Something bitter comes, and midst the flowers
Brings torment. Perchance a guilty conscience bites
1135
With rue for years of idleness and vice,
Perchance she’s spoken some doubtful word which sticks
And burns like fire in his yearning heart;
Or else he thinks she moves her eyes too much,
Too many glances at another man,
And in her face a hint of mockery.
1140
These evils can be found in love that prospers
And goes well; but in a love that’s starved and wretched
Though your eyes be closed they are there all plain to see,
Innumerable; so be on your guard,
Take my advice and keep your fancy free.
1145
For to avoid being captured in the snares of love
Is not so difficult as to escape
Once in, and break the powerful knots of Venus.
And yet, although entangled and ensnared,
You can escape this danger unless you stand
1150
In your own way, and overlook the faults
In the body and the mind of her you love,
For this is what men blinded with desire
So often do, attributing to them
Virtues with which in truth they are not endowed.
So ugly and mis-shapen women are called
1155
Sweet charmers and are held in highest honour.
A lover derides another, and urges him
To propitiate Venus since his love’s so foul,
But cannot see his own disastrous plight.
The dark girl is a nut-brown maid, the rank
And filthy is a sweet disorder. Is she green-eyed?
1160
Then she’s grey-eyed Athene. Stringy and wooden?
Then she’s a gazelle. Is she a dwarf? Why then
She’s one of the Graces, the very soul of wit.
A giantess? She’s full of dignity.
If she stammers, she has a lisp. If dumb, she’s modest.
If she’s a fiery hateful chatterbox,
1165
She’s a little squib. If she’s too thin to live,
She’s s
velte and willowy. If she’s half dead
With coughing, then she’s delicate, you see.
Is she swollen, with enormous breasts? She’s Ceres
Suckling Iacchus. She’s a faun or satyr
If she’s snub-nosed. If she’s thick-lipped she’s ‘Kissie’.
I will not weary you with all the rest.
1170
But let her have the finest face of all,
Let Venus radiate from all her body,
Still there are others; still we have lived so far
Without this woman; still, as well we know,
She does things which the plainest women do.
She fumigates herself, poor wretch, with odours
1175
So foul and evil-smelling that her maids
Keep well away and laugh behind her back.
The lover, shut out, weeping, heaps the threshold
With flowers, anoints the proud doorposts with perfumes,
And plants his lovesick kisses on the door.
But, once admitted, one whiff would promptly make him
1180
Seek some polite excuse to take his leave;
His fond complaint, deep-seated, long-rehearsed,
Would turn to nothing, he’ld damn his stupid folly
In placing her above all mortal women.
Our Venuses know this; hence the pains they take
1185
To hide all that goes on behind the scenes
From those they wish to hold in chains of love.
In vain; for in your mind as clear as day
You can see it, and all those other absurdities.
And if you like her mind and she’s good-tempered,
Why then you in your turn can overlook
1190
And make allowances for human frailty.
Not always is a woman feigning love
When she sighs and clings to a man in close embrace
And body pressed to body, lips to lips,
Moistens his mouth with hers to prolong his kisses.
Often she does it from the heart, and seeking
1195
Shared mutual delights she rouses him
To run with her through all the lists of love.
And in no wise could birds and beasts and sheep
And mares and cattle to the male submit
But that their nature burns for it, and with joy
Receives the seed from the covering animal.
1200
Do you not see how pairs whom mutual pleasure
Has bound are tortured in their common chains?
Dogs at a crossroads often you may see,
Wanting to part, pull hard with all their might
In different directions, while all the time
By the strong couplings of Venus they are held fast.
This they would never do unless both felt
1205
Pleasures which lead them astray and hold them bound.
Wherefore again and again, I say, the pleasure is mutual.
And in the mingling of seed it sometimes happens
On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) Page 20