A review by spacestationtrustfund
The Erotic Poems by Ovid
2.0
You see, I've read the poems in the original language, so I'm reasonably sceptical of any translation. As for Peter Green, I love him to death, but his translations are unequivocally terrible. For instance (to borrow an example from, uh, Clodia Metelli herself), in Amores I.I.V, Ovid says, addressing Cupid:
quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris?Literally translated, that would be, "who / to you, / furious or cruel / boy, / gave / this / in / poetry / right or law?" Green's translation, on the other hand, is:
‘Nasty young brat,’ I told him, ‘who made you Inspector of Metres?’Clodia called this "jaunty"; I'd go with "jocular," myself. It's overly colloquial—not that Ovid ought to be taken seriously all the time, of course, but there's a very significant difference between "who gave you this right over poetry?" and "who made you Inspector of Metres?"—especially because one is just straight-up wrong. Here are the first 16 lines of Amores, from I.I.I-I.I.XVI, in Latin:
arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabamCompare Green's translation of the equivalent lines:
edere, materia conveniente modis.
par erat inferior versus; risisse Cupido
dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem.
quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris? 5
Pieridum vates, non tua turba sums.
quid, si praeripiat flavae Venus arma Minervae,
ventilet accensas flava Minerva faces?
quis probet in silvis Cererem regnare iugosis
lege pharetratae Virginis arva coli? 10
crinibus insignem quis acuta cuspide Phoebum
instruat, Aoniam Marte movente lyram?
sunt tibi magna, puer, nimiumque potentia regna;
cur opus adfectas, ambitiose, novum?
an, quod, ubique, tuum est? tua sunt Heliconia tempe? 15
vix etiam Phoebo iam lyra tuta sua est?
Arms, warfare, violence—I was winding up to produce aIt would be one thing if Green had positioned his book as an interpretation of Ovid, or a collection of poetry based on Ovid, but I expect some higher standard of accuracy with translation. Anyway, here's my (very rough) more literal translation, for comparison purposes:
Regular epic, with verse-form to match—
Hexameters, naturally. But Cupid (they say) with a snicker
Lopped off one foot from each alternate line.
‘Nasty young brat,’ I told him, ‘who made you Inspector of Metres? 5
We poets come under the Muses, we’re not in your mob.
What if Venus took over the weapons of blonde Minerva,
While blonde Minerva began fanning passion’s flame?
Who’d stand for Our Lady of Wheatfields looking after rides and forests?
Who’d trust the Virgin Huntress to safeguard crops? 10
Imagine long-haired Apollo on parade with a pikestaff
While the War-God fumbled tunes from Apollo’s lyre!
Look, boy, you’ve got your own empire, and a sight too much influence
As it is. Don’t get ambitious, quit playing for more.
Or is your fief universal? Is Helicon yours? Can't even 15
Apollo call his lyre his own these days?
weapons heavy consider and violent wars was-preparingI was considering fiddling around with the syntax until that turned into something recognisable as poetry, but honestly I like it better this way. You can see the differences anyway, I trust.
to-compose, material came-together-with metre.
equal was lower line; to-have-laughed Cupid
it-is-said and one stole-away-secretly foot.
who to-you, cruel boy, gave this in verses right? 5
Muses (the-)soothsayers, not your crowd (we-)are.
what, if snatch-away golden Venus weapons of-Minerva,
(she-)fans kindled golden Minerva torches?
who esteem in forests Ceres to-reign mountainous
law quiver-wearing Maiden fields cultivate? 10
(by-)lock-of-hair distinguished who sharp pointed-blade Phoebus
prepare, Aonian Mars set-in-motion lyre?
are to-you great, boy, beyond-measure and powerful dominions;
why labour strive-after, ambitiously, new?
or, that, everywhere, yours is? yours are Heliconian valleys-or-woodlands? 15
scarcely and-also Phoebus's at-the-moment lyre secure-or-safe his is?