(freely adapted)
An opulent park: serene, we chose the heights.
Here the horizon fades
And the bright grass goes on forever. …
Our hosts move consciously, aware they create the view,
themselves the foreground.
Aristocratic, darkly groomed: forms disposed on emerald lawns.
Distant rivers, flat and shiny as freshly-painted landscape
flow into the ladies’ shoulders,
Emerge like scarves the other side.
Sport with the women! Open the lavish hampers!
Guzzle the wine, gleaming and wet as rivers. …
Later, half-drunk slung into saddles,
We are slaves of horses that gallop away.
Passing the Princess’ Pond, we lean over fondly,
Find Spring’s young green reflection sobering.
Then, battered by drums from the covered passageway,
We move on.
The sun is free to enter the Palace yard.
The gate spreads wide, lured open by the sun.
There, where the river curls, we meet the chariots
Sun-plated in silver, moons below the sky.
Blinded by polished gleam, we are distracted
By dancers: their long sleeves dip towards the water.
Courting the water, their skirts tease.
Distracted, distracted: focus our concentration
On a song:
the singer’s voice a thin wire spiralling
To the clouds. …
I always get drunk this time of year.
Spring and her melancholy—but now it’s too long
Until the wine takes hold. I become so morose!
One doesn’t achieve the pleasure any more,
Just the stupidity.
I query a half-draped girl:
Who could want this poor pedant with thin hair?
Not the Court, surely. God alone feeds me.
She is tawny from sun, she is half-turned away.
Other bodies, recumbent: ‘Who cares for you?’
I don’t mind how drunk I get. I’ll take every dare,
Every forfeit. But I can’t see beyond the party’s end.
Stand alone in the landscape, a sanguine figure.
You, poet, make a song by yourself. Be lost in your song.
Leave a Reply