4
Poetic
hey, friends, you see the little boat that’s over there?
he says he was the fastest one of all the ships,
he says there wasn’t any speeding timber raft
he couldn’t overtake if it was little oars
he had to speed along with, or if it was sails.
and he denies the fact that Adriatic shores
deny this, or the islands of the Cyclades,
or honourable Rhodes or horrid, rotten Thrace,
or that Propontis sea, the wild Black Sea bays,
where, though he’s now a boat, he used to only be
a simple forest; since, upon the chatty slopes
of Cytorus, he’d often whisper through his leaves.
Amastris on the Black Sea, verdant Cytorus,
you knew this all so well, and know it still so well,
(at least that’s what our boat would say), and from the start,
he says he stood upon your tallest standing-spot,
he says he dipped his little oars within your sea,
and then, he says, through all the choppy channels there,
he held his master, whether from the left or right
he felt a pushing breeze, or whether Jupiter
would puff upon both sails with one tremendous breath;
and never any little prayers to ocean gods
were ever made for him, when he came from the seas,
so recently, to this ol’ little lapping lake.
but that’s all in the past now; in retired rest
he swims in his old age, and gives himself to you:
twin Castor (one), and then the twin of Castor too.
Literal
The little boat which you see, guests,
says that he was the fastest of all boats,
and that there was no attack from any sailing timber
he couldn't overtake, whether he needed to fly
with his little oars, or with his sail.
And he denies that the menacing Adriatic shore
denies it, or the Cyclades islands,
or noble Rhodes, or horrid Thrace,
or Propontis, or the harsh Black Sea,
where, later a little boat, previously he was
a hairy forest: for, on the talking mountain-ridge of Cytorus,
he often gave a whisper through his hair.
Black-Sea Amastris, box-bearing Cytorus,
These things were and are very well known to you,
says the little boat, and from the earliest beginning,
he says he stood upon your highest point,
he dipped his little oars into your water,
and then, through so many rough channels,
he held his master, whether a left or a right
breeze called him, or whether Jupiter
had approached, favourable on both of his feet at the same time;
[he says that] not a single dedication to ocean gods
was made for him when he came from the sea,
finally, all the way to this clear lake.
But these things happened previously: now
he is old in hidden rest, and dedicates himself to you:
twin Castor, and the twin of Castor.
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