Ercilla
I hold on to those words not filed down
by time. Still punishing my formless lines,
I whip them into shape.
Surrendering
to silence here, I look to clear my desk
of some dark stanza that might serve to rouse
uncertainties at court—one well aware
of my citations and their hidden sense.
I yearned for glory’s praise, but only reaped
life’s nothingness, vile scorn and even shame.
If once I’d shown too much about myself
to make good graces broken whole again,
today I don’t despair in wretchedness
or envy honors men inferior
to me in lineage might attain:
an accolade is no true prize received
unless its full distinction is deserved.
Duarte Barbosa, Eminence of the Trinidad
Our sorrows will return before too late
as things gone off in secret come back round.
Soon ancient heartaches all will dissipate
and new ones come before permission’s found.
At once the certainties that solved those great
old mysteries of life appear less sound.
Light’s hidden like a fire’s embers wait
for ashes to engulf it on the ground.
A doubt will surface, lingering about
as water does amid the jagged rocks
where pools are formed each time the tide goes out.
We’ll wait for it to pass to no avail
imprisoned in our mouths here under locks
with that one question prompting speech to fail.
Seneca at Nomentanum
Today was certainly a splendid day.
No one could rob me of a second’s joy.
From bed to books and books to bed I went
without a ration more of physical
exertion than the kind I undertake
with my good Farius, the youth you know
who’s still quite passionate—
and whom, I hope, despite this, to replace
with someone younger who will partner me,
at least a man who still has all his teeth.
And should you ask me how my heated suit
turned out for us this afternoon, I’ll say
the same thing happened that so many times
occurs with athletes when two sides compete:
we both saw victory.
Then, afterward, I took a lukewarm bath
so I might doze a while—you know me well;
I drowse in stretches and don’t need much sleep.
What one thing occupied my waking hours?
I left a thought there pendant yesterday:
when I envision you a prisoner
in dreams before you soar the skies above
the Campus Martius while the rivers rage,
why is it that I search for you, cruel friend?
