VENUS AND ADONIS

Let the crowd admire; may golden Apollo
Serve me cups full of water from Castalia.

Right Honorable, I'm not sure how I might offend by dedicating my rough writings to you, nor do I know how the world will judge me for picking such a strong support for such a weak burden. However, if you seem pleased, I consider myself highly praised and promise to use all my free time until I can honor you with something more substantial. But if the first result of my creativity turns out poorly, I'll regret that it had such a noble godfather and never again explore such a barren land for fear it will give me another terrible outcome. I leave it to your esteemed review, and I hope it fulfills your desires and the world's optimistic expectations.

Your Honor, in all duty,
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

Even as the sun with a purple face
Had taken his last leave of the weeping morning,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hurried off to the hunt;
He loved hunting, but laughed off love;     4
    Love-stricken Venus rushes to him,
    And like a bold suitor begins to woo him.

“Three times fairer than I,” she started,
“The best flower in the field, sweeter than anything,     8
A blemish to all nymphs, more beautiful than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are:
    Nature that created you, in conflict with herself,
    Says the world will end with your life.     12

“Please, you amazing one, dismount your horse,
And bring his head down to the saddle's edge;
If you grant me this favor, as a reward,
You’ll learn a thousand sweet secrets:     16
    Come sit here, where no snake ever hisses,
    And once seated, I’ll shower you with kisses.

“And yet don’t overload your lips with unwanted excess,
But instead leave them craving more in the midst of plenty,     20
Making them red and pale with fresh variety:
Ten kisses as brief as one, one kiss as long as twenty:
    A summer’s day will feel like a short hour,
    When spent in such captivating fun.”     24

With this, she grabs his sweaty hand,
The source of strength and life,
And trembling with desire, she calls it a cure,
Earth’s ultimate remedy to please a goddess:     28
    In her rage, desire gives her the strength
    To boldly pull him from his horse.

Over one arm was the eager horse's reins,
Under her other was the sweet boy,     32
Who blushed and sulked in dull disdain,
With a heavy appetite, not in the mood to play;
    She was red and hot like glowing coals,
    He was red from shame, but cold with desire.     36

The studded bridle on a rough branch
She quickly fastens;—Oh! how fast is love!—
The horse is stabled, and right now
She starts to tie the rider:     40
    She pushed him back, as if she wanted to be pushed,
    And controlled him with strength, but not with desire.

As soon as she was there, he was down,
Both resting on their elbows and their hips:     44
Now she strokes his cheek, now he frowns,
And starts to scold, but she quickly silences him,
    And kissing him, she speaks in broken, teasing words,
    “If you want to scold, your lips will never open.”     48

He feels shy and embarrassed, while she cools the heat in his cheeks with her tears;
Then, with her sighs and flowing hair,
She tries to fan them dry again. 52
He calls her inappropriate, criticizes her mistakes;
What happens next is that she kills him with a kiss.

Even as an empty eagle, hungry and quick,
Wears down her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone, 56
Flapping her wings, eating everything in a rush,
Until either her stomach is full or the prey is gone:
    Just like that, she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin,
    And where she stops, she starts again. 60

Forced to be satisfied, but never to obey,
Panting, he lies there, breathing in her face.
She feeds on the steam, like it's her prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace,     64
    Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers
    So they were drenched with such refreshing showers.

Look at how a bird is trapped in a net,
So tightly held in her arms Adonis lies;     68
Pure shame and surprised resistance made him restless,
Which created even more beauty in his angry eyes:
    Rain pouring into a river that’s already swollen
    Will definitely make it overflow its banks.     72

Still she begs, and sweetly begs,
For to a pretty ear she tells her story.
He remains moody, still he scowls and complains,
Caught between deep shame and pale anger;     76
    She loves him best when he’s red, and when he’s white,
    Her best is made even better with more joy.

Look how he can, she can’t help but love;
And by her beautiful eternal hand she swears,     80
Not to leave his gentle embrace,
Until he makes peace with her flowing tears,
    Which have been falling for a long time, making her cheeks all wet;
    And one sweet kiss will settle this endless debt.

Upon this promise, he lifted his chin,     85
Like a bird diving and looking through a wave,
Who, when noticed, quickly ducks back down;
So he pretends to give her what she wanted,     88
    But when her lips are ready for his kiss,
    He winks and turns his lips away.

Never did a traveler in summer's heat
Thirst for a drink more than she does for this kindness. 92
She sees the help but can't receive it;
She bathes in water, yet her fire still burns:
“Oh! Pity,” she began to cry, “hard-hearted boy,
All I ask for is a kiss; why are you being so shy? 96

"I have been pursued just as I am asking you now,
Even by the harsh and fearsome god of war,
Whose strong neck never bends in battle,
Who wins everywhere he goes in every fight;     100
    Yet he has been my prisoner and my servant,
    And begged for what you will receive without asking.

“Over my altars, he has hung his lance,
His battered shield, his wild crest,     104
And for my sake has learned to play and dance,
To tease, to flirt, to linger, smile, and joke;
    Disdaining his gruff drum and red flag,
    Making my arms his battleground, his tent my bed.     108

“Therefore, the one who ruled me, I controlled,
Leading him captive in a red rose chain:
Strong-tempered steel obeyed his greater strength,
Yet he was submissive to my playful disdain. 112
Oh, don't be proud, nor boast about your power,
For dominating the one who defeated the god of battle.

“Just touch my lips with yours,
Even if mine aren’t as pretty, they are still red,     116
The kiss will belong to both of us:
What are you looking at on the ground? Lift your head,
    Look into my eyes, that’s where your beauty is;
    So why not lips on lips, since eyes can meet?”     120

“Are you embarrassed to kiss? Then wink again,
And I'll wink; that way the day will feel like night.
Love celebrates where there are just two;
Be brave to play, our game isn’t visible,     124
    These blue-veined violets that we lean on
    Never gossip, nor do they understand what we mean.

“The gentle spring on your tempting lips shows that you're not quite ready; yet you might be enjoyed. Make the most of time, don’t let opportunities pass you by; beauty shouldn't be wasted. Fair flowers that aren't picked in their prime rot and waste away quickly.”

“Were I unattractive, ugly, or old,
Rude, twisted, unpleasant to listen to,
Worn out, looked down upon, aching, and cold,
Vision-impaired, unproductive, thin, and lacking vitality,     136
    Then you might hesitate, for I would not be for you;
    But since I have no flaws, why do you reject me?

"You can't see a single wrinkle on my forehead,     139
My eyes are bright grey, quick to glance around;
My beauty grows like spring every year,
My skin is soft and plump, my energy burning,
    My smooth, moist hand, if you felt it in yours,
    Would melt away or seem to dissolve in your palm.     144

“Ask me to speak, and I’ll captivate your attention,
Or like a fairy, dance across the grass,
Or like a nymph, with long, wild hair,
Dance on the sands, leaving no trace behind.     148
    Love is a spirit made entirely of fire,
    Not heavy enough to fall, but light, and always reaching upward.

“Check out this primrose bank where I'm lying:     151
These weak flowers are like strong trees supporting me;
Two powerless doves will carry me through the sky,
From morning till night, wherever I want to play.
    Is love really that easy, sweet boy, and could it be
    That you think it feels heavy for you?     156

“Is your own heart showing on your face?
Can your right hand grab love from your left?
Then pursue yourself, be turned away by yourself,
Take your own freedom, and then complain about the theft. 160
Narcissus, too, forsook himself,
And died trying to kiss his own reflection in the stream.

“Torches are meant to shine, jewels to adorn,
Treats to savor, fresh beauty for enjoyment,     164
Herbs for their fragrance, and lush plants to bear;
Things that grow for themselves misuse growth,
    Seeds come from seeds, and beauty begets beauty;
    You were born; it’s your responsibility to create.     168

“On the earth's growth, why should you feed,
Unless the earth is nourished by what you produce?
By nature’s law, you’re meant to reproduce,
So that your offspring can live on when you're gone;     172
    And so, despite death, you continue to exist,
    In that your likeness lives on.”

By this, the lovesick queen started to sweat,
Because the shadow had left them where they lay,     176
And Titan, exhausted in the midday heat,
With burning gaze intensely watched them,
    Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
    So he could be like him and by Venus’ side.     180

And now Adonis, feeling lazy and carefree,
With a tired, dark, unamused gaze,
His heavy brows overshadowing his pretty sight,
Like gloomy mist when it covers the sky,     184
    Frowning on his cheeks, exclaims, “Ugh, no more love:
    The sun is burning my face; I need to go.”

“Ah me,” said Venus, “young and so ungrateful!
What weak excuses do you make to leave! 188
I'll breathe a heavenly sigh, a gentle breeze
That will cool the heat of this setting sun:
I'll use my hair to create shade for you;
If that catches fire, I'll put it out with my tears. 192

"The sun that shines from the sky gives warmth,
And here I lie between that sun and you:
The heat I feel from there isn’t much harm,
Your gaze sends out the fire that burns me;     196
    And if I weren't immortal, life would be over,
    Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

“Are you stubborn, unyielding, as hard as steel?
Not even as hard as flint, since stone softens in the rain:     200
Are you a woman's son and can't feel
What it means to love, how painful it is to lack love?
    Oh, if your mother had such a hard heart,
    She would never have given birth to you, but would have died cruelly.     204

“What am I that you should scorn me like this?
Or what serious risk lies in my request?
How would your lips be worse off for one little kiss?
Speak nicely; but if you can’t, then stay silent:     208
    Give me one kiss, and I’ll give it back to you,
    And one for good measure, if you want two.

“Ugh, lifeless image, cold and meaningless stone,
Well-painted idol, dull and dead likeness,     212
Statue pleasing only to the eye,
Something that looks like a man, but not born of a woman:
    You’re not a man, even with a man’s appearance,
    Because men will kiss even on their own terms.”     216

This said, impatience silences her pleading voice,
And rising emotions make her hesitate;
Her flushed cheeks and fiery eyes reveal her pain;
As the judge in love, she can't defend her case.     220
And now she cries, and now she wants to speak,
And now her sobs interrupt her intentions.

Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand,
Now she looks at him, now at the ground;     224
Sometimes her arms wrap around him like a hold:
She wants him to stay in her arms, but he won't;
    And when he struggles to get away,
    She locks her delicate fingers together.     228

“Touching,” she says, “since I have trapped you here
Within the boundaries of this ivory fence,
I’ll be a park, and you’ll be my deer;
Feed wherever you want, on the mountain or in the valley: 232
    Grazing on my lips, and if those hills are dry,
    Wander lower, where the lovely fountains are.”

“Within this space, there's plenty of comfort,
Soft green grass and lovely high fields,     236
Gentle rising hills, with hidden, rugged spots,
To protect you from storms and rain:
    So be my dear, since I am like this park,     239
    No dog will disturb you, even if a thousand bark.”

At this Adonis smiles with a touch of disdain,
With a cute dimple showing on each cheek;
Love created those indents, and if he were to perish,
He could be laid to rest in a tomb so plain;     244
    Knowing well that if he chose to rest there,
    That's where love lived, and that's where he couldn't die.

These beautiful caves, these round enchanting pits,
Opened their mouths to take in Venus’ desire.     248
Having been mad before, how is she now for her wits?
Struck down at first, what’s the point of a second hit?
    Poor queen of love, lost in your own rules,
    To love a face that mocks you in disdain!     252

Now which way should she go? What should she say?
Her words are over, her troubles just keep growing;
Time is running out, her goal will get away,
And from her entwined arms, he begs to be free:     256
    “Please,” she cries; “have some mercy, show me some kindness!”
    He jumps away and rushes to his horse.

But look, from a nearby thicket,
A strong, young, and proud mare appears,
She spots Adonis’ powerful stallion,
And rushes forward, snorting and neighing loudly:
    The strong-necked horse, tied to a tree,
    Breaks his reins and goes straight to her.     264

He jumps with authority, makes noise, and leaps,
And now he tears apart his tightly woven straps;
The ground shakes under his powerful hooves,
Its empty depths echo like the thunder of the heavens;
    He crushes the iron bit between his teeth,     269
    Taking charge of what once had controlled him.

His ears perked up; his long, braided mane
Stood on end along his rounded crest;     272
His nostrils filled with air, and once again,
Like from a furnace, he released vapors:
    His eye, which gleamed defiantly like fire,
    Reveals his fierce bravery and strong ambition.     276

Sometimes he trots, as if he's telling the steps,
With gentle majesty and humble pride;
Then he stands tall, dances, and jumps,
As if to say, “See how my strength is tested;
    And I do this to catch the eye     281
    Of the beautiful breeder standing nearby.”

What does he care about his rider's angry movements,
His flattering “Hey there!” or his “Stop, I say”?     284
What does he care now for a bit or a sharp spur?
For fancy saddles or flashy decorations?
    He sees his love, and nothing else matters to him,
    For nothing else matches his proud gaze.     288

Look, when a painter tries to capture life,
In depicting a well-proportioned horse,
His art struggles against nature's own work,
As if the dead could outshine the living:
    So this horse was better than an ordinary one,
    In build, bravery, color, speed, and strength.

Round-hoofed, short-jointed, with shaggy fetlocks,
Broad chest, big eyes, small head, and wide nostrils,
High crest, short ears, straight legs, and very strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad hindquarters, soft skin:
    Look, he had everything a horse should have,
    Except for a proud rider on such a proud back. 300

Sometimes he moves quickly away, and there he stares;
Then he jumps at the rustle of a feather:
To prepare for the wind's push he now gets ready,
And they can’t tell if he’ll run or fly; they don't know which;     304
    For through his mane and tail the strong wind sings,
    Ruffling the hairs, which wave like feathery wings.

He gazes at his love and calls out to her;
She responds as if she understands his thoughts,     308
Feeling proud, like women often do, when he tries to win her,
She acts distant, seeming cold,
    Rejecting his affection and mocking his passion,
    Kicking away his warm embraces with her heels.     312

Then, like a sad grouch,
He lowers his tail, which resembles a drooping feather,
Casting a cool shadow on his fading rear:
He stomps and bites the pesky flies out of frustration. 316
    His love, noticing how angry he was,
    Became gentler, and his rage calmed down.

His impatient master tries to catch him,
When suddenly the untrained mare, full of fear,     320
Worried about being caught, quickly abandons him,
Taking the horse with her, leaving Adonis behind:
    As if they were crazy, they rush into the woods,
    Outrunning crows that try to fly above them.     324

All swollen from chafing, down sits Adonis,
Calming his wild and unruly beast;
And now that happy season returns again
When love-sick hearts can find blessing through pleading;     328
    For lovers say the heart suffers triple wrong,
    When it is denied the help of the tongue.

An oven that’s stopped or a river that’s held back,
Burns hotter and swells with more anger:     332
The same can be said of hidden sorrow,
The free flow of words calms love's fire;
    But when the heart's lawyer goes silent,
    The client falls apart, desperate in their case.     336

He sees her approaching and starts to shine,
Just like a dying ember comes back to life with a breeze,
And with his hat covers up his frowning face,
Gazes at the dull ground with a troubled mind,     340
    Not noticing that she is so close,
    Because he keeps casting sideways glances at her.

Oh, what a sight it was to see
How she quietly approached the rebellious boy,     344
To observe the struggle of her colors,
How white and red were destroying each other:
    But now her cheek was pale, and soon enough
    It burst forth in flames, like lightning from the sky.     348

Now she was right in front of him as he sat,
And like a humble lover, she kneels down;
With one delicate hand, she lifts up his hat,
Her other gentle hand touches his smooth cheek:     352
    His softer cheek accepts the imprint of her hand,
    Just like fresh-fallen snow takes any mark.

Oh, what a battle of glances was happening between them,
Her eyes pleading to his eyes, trying to win him over,     356
His eyes saw her eyes as if they were seeing them for the first time,
Her eyes kept trying to charm, while his eyes rejected the charm:
    And all this silent exchange was made clear
    With tears, which, like a chorus, her eyes rained down.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand,     361
A lily trapped in a prison of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band,
So white a friend embraces so white a foe:     364
    This beautiful struggle, both eager and reluctant,
    Looked like two silver doves that sit cooing.

Once again, her thoughts started up:
“O fairest mover in this mortal world,     368
I wish you were like me, and I were a man,
My heart as whole as yours, your heart my pain,
    For just one sweet look, I’d guarantee you my help,
    Even if only my own suffering could heal you.”

“Give me my hand,” he says, “why do you feel it?”
“Give me my heart,” she replies, “and you can have it.
Oh, give it to me before your cold heart steals it,
And if it’s stolen, gentle sighs will never mark it.     376
    Then I’ll never pay attention to love’s deep groans,
    Because Adonis’ heart has made mine hard.”

“For shame,” he yells, “let go, and let me be,
My day’s joy is over, my horse is gone, 380
And it’s your fault that I’ve lost him,
I ask you to go away and leave me here alone,
    Because all my thoughts, my worries, my concerns,
    Are focused on getting my horse back from the mare.” 384

Thus she replies: “Your horse, as it should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire,
Affection is a fire that needs to be cooled;
Otherwise, if it’s left unchecked, it will ignite the heart,     388
    The sea has limits, but deep desire has none;
    So it’s no surprise that your horse has run off.

“How much like a gem he stood tied to the tree,
Submissively controlled with a leather reins!     392
But when he saw his love, the prize of his youth,
He looked down on such trivial confinement;
    Throwing off the cheap strap from his bent neck,
    Freeing his mouth, his back, his chest.     396

“Who sees his true love in her bare bed,
Making the sheets whiter than white,
But once his greedy eyes have taken in all,
Do his other senses seek the same pleasure?     400
    Who is so timid that wouldn’t dare to be so bold
    As to touch the fire when it’s cold outside?

“Let me excuse your horse, dear boy,
And learn from him, I really ask you,     404
To seize the joy that's right in front of you,
Even if I were silent, his actions will show you.
    Oh, learn to love, the lesson is simple,
    And once you get it right, it’s never forgotten.”     408

“I don’t know love,” he said, “and I don’t want to know it,
Unless it’s a wild pig, and then I go after it;
It’s too much to borrow, and I won’t owe it;
To me, love is just a way to embarrass it;     412
    Because I’ve heard it’s a life that’s like death,
    That laughs and cries, and does it all with just a breath.

“Who wears a garment that’s shapeless and unfinished?
Who picks the bud before a single leaf has appeared?     416
If things that are just beginning are in any way stunted,
They wither in their prime and become worthless;
    The colt that’s backed and burdened while it’s still young,
    Loses its confidence and never grows strong.     420

“You’ve hurt my hand by squeezing it so tightly. Let’s break up,
And drop this pointless topic, this useless talk:
Stop your attack on my stubborn heart,
To love’s calls, it won’t open the door:     424
    Forget your promises, your fake tears, your flattery;
    Because where a heart is tough, they can’t break through.”

“What! Can you talk?” she said, “Do you have a tongue?
I wish you didn’t, or I couldn’t hear;     428
Your mermaid’s voice has wronged me double;
I was already burdened, now I'm weighed down even more:
    Melodious chaos, heavenly melody, harsh noise,
    Sweet music to the ear, and deep pain to the heart.

“Even if I had no eyes but ears, my ears would adore that inner beauty that can't be seen; or if I were deaf, your external features would touch every part of me that could feel. Even though I have neither eyes nor ears to hear or see, I would still fall in love just by touching you.”

“Imagine if I couldn't feel anything,
And if I couldn't see, hear, or touch at all,     440
And all I had left was the sense of smell,
My love for you would still be just as strong;
    For from the beauty of your face shines
    A fragrant breath that creates love through scent.

“But oh, what a feast you were for the senses,     445
Being the nurturer and supporter of the other four;
Would they not wish the celebration could last forever,
And ask that doubt securely lock the door,
    So that jealousy, that bitter and unwanted visitor,
    Doesn't sneak in and disrupt the celebration?”     448

Once again, the ruby-colored door opened,
Providing a sweet passage for his words,     452
Like a red morning that always signals
Destruction for sailors, storms for the fields,
    Sorrow for shepherds, misery for the birds,
    Winds and harsh conditions for shepherds and their flocks.     456

This bad omen she wisely notes:
Just like the wind is still before it rains,
Or how the wolf grins before it howls,
Or like the berry bursts before it stains,     460
    Or like the deadly bullet from a gun,
    His meaning hit her before he even spoke.

And at his gaze, she suddenly collapses
For looks can kill love, and love can be revived by looks;     464
A smile heals the pain caused by a frown;
But what a fortunate fail, that love can thrive like this!
    The poor boy, thinking she’s dead,
    Touching her pale cheek until it turns red.     468

And completely surprised, he stopped his recent plan,
Because he had intended to scold her,
But clever love cleverly stopped him:
Good for the cleverness that can protect her so well! 472
For she lies on the grass as if she were dead,
Until his breath brings her back to life again.

He twists her nose, slaps her cheeks,
He bends her fingers, grips her wrists tightly,     476
He rubs her lips; in a thousand ways he tries
To fix the pain that his cruelty caused:
    He kisses her; and she, if she had her choice,
    Will never get up, so he will keep kissing her.     480

The night of sorrow has now turned into day:
She lifts her two blue windows faintly,
Like the beautiful sun in his fresh appearance
He brightens the morning, and brings relief to the world:     484
    And just as the bright sun lights up the sky,
    Her face is illuminated by her eyes.

Whose rays shine on his smooth face,
As if they borrowed all their glow from him. 488
Never have four such lights been combined,
If his were not dimmed by his frowning brow;
But hers, which sparkled through her crystal tears,
Shone like the moon reflected in water at night. 492

“O where am I?” she said, “on earth or in heaven?
Or in the ocean, drenched, or in the fire?
What time is this? Is it morning or a tired evening?
Do I want to die, or do I want to live?     496
    But just moments ago, I felt like living was a burden;
    Now I feel like dying brings me joy.

“O you killed me; kill me once more:
Your eyes' clever teacher, that cold heart of yours,
Has taught them cruel tricks and such contempt,
That they have slain this poor heart of mine;
    And these my eyes, true guides to their queen,
    Had they not been for your pitiful lips, would have seen no more.     504

“May they kiss each other for this remedy for a long time!
Oh, never let their red uniforms fade,
And as they last, may their freshness stay strong,
To drive away illness from this dangerous time: 508
That the astrologers, having written about death,
May say, the plague is gone because of your breath.

“Perfect lips, sweet kisses marked on my soft lips,
What deals can I make still waiting to be sealed?     512
I could be happy selling myself,
As long as you buy, pay up, and play fair;
    If you do buy, to avoid any mistakes,
    Put your personal seal on my wax-red lips.     516

“A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And you can pay them whenever you want, one by one,
What does a thousand touches mean to you?
Aren't they easily counted and quickly forgotten? 520
    If, for not paying, the debt should double,
    Is two thousand kisses really such a big deal?”

“Fair queen,” he said, “if you have any love for me,
Gauge my oddness by my youthful inexperience:     524
Before I understand myself, don’t try to understand me;
No fisherman catches fish that aren’t ready:
    The ripe plum drops, the green one holds on tight,
    Or if picked too early, it’s sour to taste.     528

“Look at the world's comforter, walking tiredly
His long day’s work has ended in the west;
The owl, the messenger of night, shrieks, it’s very late;
The sheep have gone to their pen, birds to their nest,     532
    And dark clouds that block out heaven’s light
    Call us to say goodbye and wish good night.

“Now let me say good night, and you say it too;
If you say so, you’ll get a kiss.” 536
“Good night,” she said; and before he says goodbye,
The sweet reward of parting is offered:
    Her arms around his neck give a gentle embrace;
    They seem joined together, face to face. 540

Till breathless he pulled away and drew back
The heavenly moisture from that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips were familiar with,
Where they indulge yet still complain of thirst,
He pressed with her fullness; she faint from lack,
Their lips stuck together, they fell to the ground.

Now quick desire has caught the willing prize,
And like a glutton, she feeds but never feels full; 548
Her lips are the conquerors, his lips comply,
Paying whatever ransom the insulter demands;
    Whose vulture-like thoughts set the price so high,
    That she will drain his lips' rich treasure dry. 552

And after experiencing the thrill of the prize,
With reckless rage, she starts to search;
Her face is hot and angry, her blood is boiling,
And reckless desire ignites a fierce determination,      556
    Sowing forgetfulness, pushing reason aside,
    Ignoring the pure blush of shame and the ruin of honor.

Hot, exhausted, and worn out, wrapped in her tight embrace,
Like a wild bird being tamed from too much handling,
Or like the quick-footed deer that’s tired from running,
Or like the stubborn baby calmed by gentle rocking:
    He now submits, and now he doesn’t fight back,
    While she takes whatever she can, not everything she wants.

What wax is so hard that it doesn't melt with warmth,
And eventually gives in to every gentle touch?
Things that seem hopeless often come from taking risks,
Especially in love, where desire goes beyond permission:     568
    Love doesn't weaken like a timid coward,
    But actually courts better when most desired is difficult.

When he frowned, oh how she gave up then,
She had not tasted such sweetness from his lips. 572
Harsh words and scowls shouldn't drive away a lover;
Even if a rose has thorns, it’s still picked.
    Even if beauty is locked away tight,
    Love finds a way to break through and claim it all in the end.

For pity's sake, she can’t hold him back anymore;     577
The poor fool begs her to let him go:
She has decided not to stop him any longer,
Says goodbye, and urges him to take care of her heart,     580
    Which, she claims by Cupid’s bow,
    He carries away locked in his chest.

“Sweet boy,” she says, “tonight I’ll spend in sadness,
For my aching heart forces my eyes to keep watch. 584
Tell me, master of love, will we meet tomorrow?
So, will we? will we? will you agree to this?”
He tells her no, tomorrow he plans
To go hunting for boars with some of his friends. 588

“The boar!” she exclaimed; and a sudden pallor,
Like a cloth laid over a blushing rose,
Covers her cheek, she trembles at his story,
And wraps her arms around his neck.     592
    She sinks down, still clinging to his neck,
    He falls onto her belly, she onto her back.

Now she’s right in the arena of love,
Her champion geared up for the intense battle:     596
Everything she experiences is just in her head,
He won’t be able to handle her, even if he gets on her; 
    That’s worse than what Tantalus faced, her frustration,
    To touch paradise and yet miss out on her joy.     600

Even like poor birds, fooled by fake grapes,
They overindulge by sight and starve in the stomach:
Just like those birds, she suffers in her troubles,
As those helpless birds that saw the fake berries. 604
The warmth she misses in him,
She tries to spark with constant kissing.

But it's all pointless, good queen, it won’t work,
She has tried as much as can be proven;     608
Her arguments deserve a greater reward;
She loves, she cares, and yet she isn't loved.
    "Stop it, stop it," he says, "you’re suffocating me; let me go;
    You have no reason to keep me here."     612

“You would have left by now,” she said, “sweet boy, if you hadn’t told me you were going to hunt the boar. Oh, be careful; you don’t know what it’s like to pierce a nasty pig with a javelin, whose tusks are always sharp, like a mortal butcher ready to kill.”

“On his curved back he has a battle array
Of sharp spikes that always threaten his enemies;     620
His eyes shine like glow-worms when he’s angry;
His snout digs graves wherever he goes;
    When provoked, he attacks anything in his path,
    And anyone he hits, his twisted tusks kill.     624

“His strong sides, covered with bristly hair,
Are better proof than your spear can penetrate;
His short, thick neck is tough to wound;
When angry, he will take on the lion:
    The thorny brambles and tangled bushes,
    Frightened by him, part as he charges through.

“Alas! he thinks nothing of that face of yours,
To which love's eyes give their admiring glances;     632
Nor your soft hands, sweet lips, and clear eyes,
Whose complete perfection astounds the whole world;
    But having you at his advantage, what a fear!
    Would tear these beauties up like he pulls the grass.

“Oh let him keep his disgusting cabin,     637
Beauty has nothing to do with such vile creatures:
Don't voluntarily walk into his danger;
Those who succeed wisely listen to their friends.
    When you mentioned the boar, not to hide it,
    I feared for your future, and my limbs shook.

“Did you not see my face, was it not pale?
Did you not notice signs of fear in my eyes?     644
Did I not grow weak, and did I not fall down?
Within my chest, where you lie,
    My troubling heart aches, beats, and finds no peace,
    But like an earthquake, shakes you on my breast.

“For where love rules, troubling jealousy     649
Claims to be affection’s guard;
Sounds false alarms, incites rebellion,
And in a calm moment shouts “Kill, kill!”     652
    Upsetting gentle love in his longing,
    Like air and water dousing the fire.

“This bitter informer, this troublemaking spy,
This disease that ruins love’s gentle beginnings,
This gossiping, divisive jealousy,
That sometimes brings real news, sometimes lies,
    Knocks at my heart and whispers in my ear,
    That if I love you, I should fear your death.     660

“And even more than that, it shows me
The image of an angry, restless boar,
Under whose sharp fangs on his back lies
A figure like you, all stained with blood;
     664
    Whose blood, spilled on the fresh flowers,
    Makes them droop with sorrow and hang their heads.

“What should I do, seeing you like this,
That tremble at the thought of it?     668
Just thinking about it makes my weak heart ache,
And fear gives me a sense of foresight:
    I predict your death, my living sorrow,
    If you face the boar tomorrow.     672

“But if you really want to hunt, listen to me;
Release the hounds at the scared, fleeing hare,
Or at the clever fox that survives on cunning,
Or at the roe that dares not to encounter others:     676
    Chase these timid creatures over the hills,
    And on your well-bred horse, stay with your hounds.

“And when you have the blind hare on the run,
Notice the poor thing, trying to escape its troubles     680
How it outpaces the wind, and with such effort
It twists and turns with a thousand tricks:
    The many paths it takes
    Are like a maze to confuse its enemies.     684

“Sometimes he runs with a flock of sheep,
To confuse the clever hounds with their scent,
And sometimes where burrowing rabbits hide,
To silence the loud pursuers in their chase,     688
    And sometimes mingles with a herd of deer;
    Danger comes up with tricks, while fear stays alert.

“For there his scent mixed with others,     691
The eager scent-hound dogs start to hesitate,
Stopping their loud barking, until they have figured out
With great effort the clear cold trail;
    Then they start to bark: the echo answers,
    As if another hunt were happening above.     696

“Because of this, poor Wat, far away on a hill,
Stands on his hind legs with an attentive ear,
To listen if his enemies are still chasing him.
Soon he hears their loud alarms;     700
    And now his sadness can be compared well
    To someone seriously ill who hears the passing bell.

“Then you will see the dew-soaked wretch
Turn, and turn again, following the path,     704
Each jealous thorn scratching his tired legs,
Each shadow makes him pause, each whisper delays him:
    For many trample on misery,
    And being down low is never helped by anyone.     708

"Lie still and listen a bit longer;
No, don’t fight it, because you won't get up:
To make you hate the hunt for the wild boar,
Unlike me, you hear me preach,     712
    Relating this to that, and so on,
    Because love can talk about every sorrow.

“Where did I leave off?” “It doesn't matter,” he said.
“Just leave me, and then the story comes to a fitting close: 716
The night is over.” “So what?” she replied.
“I am,” he said, “expected by my friends;
And now it’s dark, and if I go, I might stumble.”
“In the dark,” she said, “desire sees the clearest.” 720

But if you fall, oh just think about this,
The earth, enamored with you, makes you stumble,
And everything is just to take a kiss from you.     723
Valuable targets turn honest men into thieves; just like your lips
    Make modest Diana feel sad and abandoned,
    Unless she steals a kiss and ends up breaking her vow.”

“Now in this dark night I see the reason:
Cynthia, embarrassed, hides her silver glow     728
Until nature itself is accused of betrayal,
For taking shapes from heaven that were divine;
    In which she created you, against heaven’s will,
    To outshine the sun by day and her by night.     732

“And so she has bribed fate,
To mess with the intricate design of nature,
To combine beauty with flaws,
And pure perfection with imperfect features,     736
    Making it vulnerable to the tyranny
    Of crazy accidents and great suffering.

“As burning fevers, chills, and weakness,
Life-threatening plagues and wild madness,     740
The bone-deep illness that causes chaos
By heating the blood;
    Indigestion, abscesses, pain, and utter despair,
    Swear that nature’s finished, for making you so beautiful.     744

“And not the least of all these problems
But in just one minute’s struggle takes beauty down:
Both charm, flavor, color, and traits,
At which the unbiased onlooker marveled, 748
Are suddenly diminished, melted, and gone,
Like mountain snow melting in the midday sun.

“Therefore, despite the pointless chastity,
Love-deprived vestals and self-absorbed nuns,     752
Those who would create a shortage
And barren lack of daughters and sons,
    Be generous: the lamp that burns at night
    Uses up its oil to share its light with the world.     756

“What is your body but a consuming grave,
Seeming to bury that future generation,
Which by the passage of time you must have,
If you don’t destroy them in dark obscurity? 760
    If that's the case, the world will look down on you,
    Since in your pride such a fair hope is killed.

“So in yourself, you harm yourself;
A disaster worse than family conflict,     764
Or those whose desperate hands take their own lives,
Or the father who kills his son.
    Corrupting rust eats away at hidden treasure,
    But gold that's put to use makes even more gold.”     768

“Then,” said Adon, “you’re going to go back to your usual pointless topic;
The kiss I gave you was wasted,
And all your efforts to resist are pointless;
For by this dark night, the ugly source of desire,
Your arguments just make me like you less and less.

“If love had given you twenty thousand tongues,
And each tongue more persuasive than your own,     776
Enchanting like the alluring songs of a mermaid,
Still, the tempting melody fades from my ear;
    For know, my heart is guarded in my ear,
    And won’t allow a false sound to come in there.     780

“Unless the misleading peace should settle
Into the calm confines of my chest,
And then my little heart would be completely shattered,
In his bedroom, unable to find rest.     784
    No, lady, no; my heart doesn’t yearn to ache,
    But sleeps deeply, while it rests alone.

“What have you said that I can't challenge?
The path is easy that leads to danger;     790
I don't hate love, but your way of loving
That gives hugs to every stranger.
    You do it for gain: Oh, what a strange excuse!
    When reason is the pimp for lust’s abuse.     792

“Don’t call it love, because true love has gone to heaven,
Since sweaty desire on earth has taken its name;
Under a simple disguise, it has fed
On fresh beauty, tainting it with shame;     796
    Which the burning tyrant corrupts and quickly takes away,
    Like caterpillars do to young leaves.

“Love comforts like sunshine after rain,
But lust’s effect is a storm after sun;     800
Love’s gentle spring always stays fresh,
Lust’s winter arrives before summer is even halfway done.
    Love doesn’t tire, while lust, like a glutton, wastes away;
    Love is all truth, while lust is full of lies.     804

“There's more I could say, but I won’t risk it;
The text is outdated, and the speaker is inexperienced.
So, with a heavy heart, I’ll take my leave;
I feel ashamed, and my heart is troubled,      808
    My ears, which listened to your careless chatter
    Are burning for having been so offended.”

With this, he breaks free from the sweet embrace     811
Of those lovely arms that held him to her chest,
And quickly runs home through the dark fields;
Leaves love behind her, deeply distressed.
    Look how a bright star shoots from the sky,
    So he glides through the night from Venus’ gaze.     816

Which after him she rushes, like someone on land
Watching a friend who just set sail,
Until the wild waves make him disappear,
Whose peaks struggle against the gathering clouds:     820
    So did the merciless and dark night
    Wrap up the sight that had captivated her.

Where she lay, amazed, like someone who has unknowingly
Dropped a precious jewel in the river, 824
Or as lost travelers often are,
When their light goes out in a suspicious forest;
    So she lay, confused in the dark,
    Having lost the beautiful clarity of her path. 828

And now she pounds her heart, which groans,
These nearby caves all seem disturbed,
Echoing her cries;
One passion intensifies another:     832
    “Oh no!” she cries, and repeats, “Woe, woe!”
    And twenty echoes respond the same way.

She marks them and starts a mournful tune,
And sings spontaneously a sad little song;     836
How love makes young men enslaved, and old men foolish,
How love is clever in its foolishness:
    Her sorrowful anthem always ends in sadness,
    And still the chorus of echoes responds the same way.     840

Her song was boring and stretched out the night,
Because lovers’ hours feel long, even if they seem short,
If they're happy together, they think others enjoy
The same situation, with the same fun:     844
    Their long stories often start,
    But they end without anyone listening and never really finish.

For who does she have to spend the night with,
But empty sounds that act like leeches;     848
Like loud bartenders responding to every request,
Pandering to the whims of imaginative minds?
    She says, “It is so:” they all reply, “It is so;”
    And would echo her if she said “No.”     852

Look, here comes the gentle lark, tired of resting,
From his damp nest he soars up high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver heart
The sun rises in all his glory;     856
    Who looks upon the world so beautifully,
    That the tops of cedars and hills appear as burnished gold.

Venus greets him with this beautiful good morning:
“Oh you bright god, and guardian of all light,     860
From whom every lamp and shining star takes
The lovely glow that makes them shine,
    There lives a son who was raised by an earthly mother,
    May he give you light, as you give to others.”

This said, she rushes to a myrtle grove,     865
Wondering why the morning is so far gone,
And still she hasn’t heard from her love;
She listens for his dogs and for his horn.     868
Soon she hears them singing loudly,
And quickly she heads towards the sound.

And as she runs, the bushes in her path
Some grab her by the neck, some brush her face,     872
Some wrap around her thigh to hold her back:
She breaks free from their tight grip,
    Like a nursing doe, whose full teats ache,
    Hurrying to feed her fawn hiding in some thicket.     876

By this, she hears the hounds are cornered,
And she jumps like someone who spots a snake
Coiled up in deadly loops right in their path,
The fear of which makes them tremble and shake;     880
    Just like the frightened barking of the hounds
    Overwhelms her senses and confuses her spirit.

For now she realizes it’s not a gentle pursuit,
But the tough boar, the rough bear, or the proud lion,     884
Because the cry stays in one spot,
Where the dogs bark loudly in fear,
    Finding their enemy to be so fierce,
    They all try to show who can face him first. 888

This sorrowful cry echoes sadly in her ear,
Entering in to shock her heart;
Overcome by uncertainty and lifeless fear,
With cold, pale weakness numbs every feeling part;     892
    Like soldiers when their captain surrenders,
    They cowardly flee and refuse to stay in the fight.

Thus she stands in a trembling state of excitement,
Until, lifting her spirits from deep despair,     896
She tells them it’s an unfounded fear,
And a childish mistake that they’re scared;
    She urges them to stop shaking, tells them not to be afraid:
    And with that word, she spotted the hunted boar.     900

Whose foamy mouth is covered in red,
Like milk and blood mixed together,
A new fear spreads through all her muscles,
Which drives her to run without knowing where:     904
    This way she runs, and now she won't go any further,
    But she retreats to blame the boar for murder.

A thousand emotions take her in different directions,
She walks the path only to walk it back again;     908
Her urgency is mixed with setbacks,
Like the actions of a tipsy mind,
    Full of considerations, yet not really respecting anything,
    Engaged with everything, yet achieving nothing.

Here, hidden in a thicket, she finds a hound,     913
And asks the tired creature for his owner,
And there’s another one, licking his wound,
The only cure for poisoned sores, a makeshift bandage.     916
    And here she encounters another, looking gloomy,
    She speaks to him, and he answers with howling.

When he has stopped his loud, unpleasant noise,
Another mournful creature, dark and fierce, 920
Belts out his voice into the sky;
One after another responds to him,
    Thumping their proud tails on the ground,
    Shaking their scratched ears, bleeding as they move.

Look how the world's poor are astonished 925
At visions, signs, and marvels,
Which they have stared at with fearful eyes for so long,
Filling them with terrifying predictions; 928
    So she, at these sorrowful signs, takes a deep breath,
    And sighing it out again, laments about death.

“Harsh-faced tyrant, ugly, thin, and scrawny,     931
Hateful end of love,” she scolds death,
“Grim-grinning ghost, earth’s worm, what’s your deal?
To suffocate beauty and take his breath,
    Who when he lived, his breath and beauty gave
    Luster to the rose, scent to the violet.     936

“If he’s dead, oh no, that can't be,
Seeing his beauty, you should strike at it,
Oh yes, it can be, you have no eyes to see,
But hatefully and randomly you hit.     940
    Your target is weak old age, but your aim
    Misses that target and pierces a child’s heart.

“Had you just warned him, he would have spoken,
And hearing him, your power would have lost its strength.     944
The fates will curse you for this act;
They told you to cut a weed, but you picked a flower.
    Love’s golden arrow should have been aimed at him,
    Not death’s dark dart to kill him.     948

“Do you drink tears, that you provoke such weeping?
What good does a heavy groan do you?
Why have you thrown into eternal sleep
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?     952
    Now nature doesn’t care for your mortal strength,
    Since her best creation is ruined by your harshness.”

Here, overcome and filled with despair,
She lowered her eyelids, which like dams halted     956
The clear tears that fell from her lovely cheeks
Into the gentle flow of her bosom.
    But through the floodgates pours the silver rain,
    And with its powerful force reopens them again.     960

Oh, how her eyes and tears exchanged emotions;
Her eyes reflected in her tears, tears in her eyes;
Both like crystals, where they saw each other’s pain,
Pain that friendly sighs tried to dry;     964
    But like a stormy day, now windy, now rainy,
    Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

Variable emotions crowd her constant sorrow,
As they compete to define her grief; 968
All are engaged, each feeling tries so hard,
That every current pain seems most important,
    But none is the strongest, so they all come together,
    Like many clouds deliberating for bad weather. 972

By this, she hears a distant huntsman calling;
A nurse's song never pleased her baby so much:
The terrible thoughts she followed
This sound of hope is trying to drive away;     976
    For now, renewed joy tells her to celebrate,
    And flatters her, saying it's Adonis’ voice.

Where her tears started to flow,
Trapped in her eye, like pearls in glass;     980
Yet sometimes a precious drop falls beside,
Melting on her cheek as if to mock the idea
    Of washing the dirty face of the filthy ground,
    Which only looks drowned when it’s actually drunk.

O love that struggles to believe, how strange you are
Not believing, yet so easily swayed;
Your joys and sorrows are both so extreme;
Despair and hope make you absurd,
    One flatters you with unlikely thoughts,
    The other swiftly brings you down with likely ones.

Now she unravels the web she has spun,
Adonis is alive, and death isn’t the culprit;     992
It wasn’t her that brought him to nothing;
Now she adds glory to his despised name.
    She calls him king of the dead, and death for kings,
    Ruler supreme over all mortal things.     996

“No, no,” she said, “I was just joking;
But please forgive me, I felt a little scared
When I encountered the boar, that brutal creature,
Who shows no mercy and is always fierce;     1000
    So, gentle shadow—honestly, I must admit—
    I spoke against you, fearing for my love’s fate.

“It's not my fault; the boar provoked me to speak;
Get your revenge on him, invisible commander; 1004
It's he, disgusting creature, who has wronged you;
I just reacted; he’s the source of my slander.
Grief has two voices, and no woman yet,
Could control them both without the cleverness of ten women.”

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,     1009
She softens her reckless doubt;
And so his beauty can flourish more, 
With death she humbly implies;     1012
    Tells him about trophies, statues, tombs, and tales
    Of his victories, his triumphs, and his glories.

“O love!” she said, “how foolish was I,
To have such a weak and silly mind,     1016
To mourn his death when he lives, and won’t die
Until the end of all humanity;
    For with him gone, beauty is gone,
    And with beauty gone, dark chaos returns.     1020

“Come on, come on, silly love, you’re as scared
As someone loaded with treasure, surrounded by thieves,
Worrying about insignificant things no one sees or hears,
Your cowardly heart hurts with all these false thoughts.”     1024
    Just then she hears a cheerful horn,
    And she jumps up, who not long ago was feeling hopeless.

As a falcon goes for the lure, she takes off;
The grass doesn’t bend; she walks on it so lightly,     1028
And in her rush, she sadly spots
The ugly boar’s victory over her beauty;
When she sees this, her eyes, as if killed by the sight,
Like stars embarrassed by the daylight, turned away.

Or like the snail, whose soft antennae get hit,     1033
It withdraws into its shell, wincing in pain,
And there, all curled up, it sits in the shadows,
Long after being too scared to come out again:     1036
    So at his bloody sight, her eyes have retreated
    Into the deep dark corners of her mind.

Where they give up their roles and their light
To the control of her troubled mind,     1040
Who tells them to keep company with dark night,
And never hurt the heart with their looks again;
    Who like a king confused on his throne,
    By their advice lets out a painful groan.     1044

Where every subject trembles,
Like when the wind is trapped underground,
Struggling to break free, shaking the earth,
Which with icy fear confuses people's minds.
    This rebellion so surprises everyone     1049
    That from their dark slumber, their eyes spring open again.

And when it was opened, it reluctantly revealed
The large gash that the boar had made
In his soft side, whose usual lily white
Was soaked with the purple tears from his wound.
    There were no flowers nearby, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed,
    But they absorbed his blood and appeared to bleed with him.

This deep sorrow poor Venus observes,     1057
She hangs her head over one shoulder,
Silently she suffers, desperately she loves;
She believes he can’t be dead, he isn't gone:     1060
    Her voice is silenced, her limbs forget to bend,
    Her eyes are wild, as they have cried until now.

Upon seeing his injury, she looks so intently,
That her gaze makes the wound appear three times larger;
And then she scolds her cruel eye,
That creates more cuts where there shouldn’t be any:
    His face seems twofold, each separate limb is multiplied,
    For the eye often misjudges when the mind is confused.

“My tongue can't express my grief for one,     1069
And yet,” she said, “look at two Adons dead!
My sighs have vanished, my salty tears gone,
My eyes have turned to fire, my heart to lead:     1072
    Heavy heart's lead, melt with my eyes' red fire!
    That’s how I'll die, drop by drop, from burning desire.

“Alas, poor world, what treasure have you lost!
What face still alive is worth looking at?
Whose voice is like music now? What can you brag
About the past, or anything that's coming? 1078
    The flowers are sweet, their colors fresh and bright,
    But true sweet beauty lived and died with him.

“From now on, no one should wear a bonnet or veil!     1081
Neither the sun nor the wind will ever try to kiss you:
With nothing beautiful to lose, you don’t need to be afraid;
The sun disdains you, and the wind hisses at you.
    But when Adonis was alive, the sun and the sharp air     1085
    Lurked like two thieves, trying to steal his beauty.

“And so he would put on his hat,
Under which the bright sun would peek;     1088
The wind would blow it away, and once gone,
It would play with his hair; then Adonis would cry;
    And right away, out of pity for his young age,
    They would both compete to see who could dry his tears first.

“To see his face, the lion walked along     1093
Behind some bushes, because he didn’t want to scare him;
To relax a bit after singing,
The tiger would be calm and listen quietly.     1096
    If he had spoken, the wolf would abandon his prey,
    And wouldn’t frighten the innocent lamb that day.

“When he saw his reflection in the stream,
The fish spread their golden gills on it;     1100
When he was nearby, the birds were so happy,
That some would sing, while others would bring him
    Mulberries and ripe, red cherries.
    He fed them with his gaze, and they fed him with berries.

“But this dirty, ugly, and ragged boar, Whose downward gaze is always searching for a grave, Never saw the beautiful attire he wore; Just look at the welcome he provided. If he did see his face, then I know He intended to kiss him, and that's why he killed him.”

“It’s true, it’s true; that's how Adonis was killed:
He charged at the boar with his sharp spear,     1112
The boar didn’t sharpen his teeth in response,
But thought he could win him over with a kiss;
    And nuzzling into his side, the affectionate pig
    Unknowingly buried the tusk in his soft groin.     1116

“Had I had teeth like him, I have to admit,
If I’d kissed him, I would have killed him first;
But he’s dead, and he never blessed
My youth with his; the more I’m cursed.”     1120
    With this, she falls down where she stood,
    And stains her face with his dried blood.

She gazes at his lips, and they’re pale;
She takes his hand, and it’s cold,     1124
She whispers a heavy story in his ears,
As if he heard the sad words she spoke;
She opens the lids of the box that shut his eyes,
Where, behold, two lamps have gone out in darkness.

Two glasses where she saw herself a thousand times, and now they reflect nothing more; their charm is gone, which they once had, and every beauty is stripped of its impact. “What a wonder of time,” she said, “that even though you're dead, the day should still be bright.”

“Since you are gone, I now predict,
That sorrow will follow love from here on out:     1136
It will be accompanied by jealousy,
Starting sweet but ending bitter;
    Never balanced, always high or low,
    That all of love's joy won't compare to its pain.

“It'll be unpredictable, dishonest, and full of deception,     1141
Bud, and wilt in the blink of an eye;
The core is toxic, and the surface covered
With sweets that will fool the sharpest eyes.     1144
    The strongest person will become the weakest,
    Silence the wise, and give the fool a voice.

“It shall be cautious, yet overflowing with chaos,
Teaching old age to dance along;     1148
The wild troublemaker will be kept in check,
Taking from the wealthy, giving treasure to the poor;
    It shall be furious and completely foolish,
    Turning the young into the old, and the old into a child.     1152

“It will feel anxiety where there’s no reason to be afraid,
It won’t be afraid where it should be most suspicious;
It will be kind, yet too harsh,
And most misleading when it appears most fair;     1156
    Twisted it will be, where it seems most favorable,
    Turning fear into bravery, courage into cowardice.

“It will cause war and terrible events,
And create conflict between father and son;     1160
Submissive and susceptible to all discontent,
Like dry fuel is to fire,
    Since in his youth death destroys my love,
    Those who love the most will not enjoy their love.”     1164

By this, the boy who lay beside her was gone,
Vanished like vapor from her view,
And from the blood that spilled onto the ground,
A purple flower grew, marked with white,
Mimicking his pale cheeks, and the blood
That stood in round drops on their brightness.

She lowers her head, smelling the freshly bloomed flower,
Comparing it to her Adonis’ breath;     1172
And thinks it will stay close to her heart,
Since death has taken him away from her;
    She cuts the stem, and in the broken part shows
    Green-dropping sap, which she likens to tears.

“Poor flower,” she said, “this was your father's way,
Sweet offspring of a sweeter dad,
For every little sorrow would bring tears to his eyes,
His wish was to grow for himself,     1180
    And so it is yours; but know, it’s just as bad
    To wilt in my heart as in his veins.

“Here is your father’s bed, right here in my heart;
You are the next of kin, and this is your right:     1184
Look, in this empty cradle, take your rest,
My beating heart will rock you day and night:
    Not a single minute in an hour
    Will go by without me kissing my sweet love’s flower.”

So tired of the world, she quickly leaves,
And harnesses her silver doves; with their swift help,
Her mistress soars through the open skies,
In her light chariot, she's swiftly taken;
    Heading towards Paphos, where their queen
    Plans to shut herself away and not be seen.

FINIS