To Heracleitos: A translation of Callimachus Epigram 34
As Callimachus sometimes falls to the wayside in undergraduate lecture courses, some sort of godfather poetical figure with untold influence summed up by a slogan of sorts (his (in)famous “Big Book, Big Evil”), I thought I’d try and spread the word — so to speak — by translating one of my favourite epigrams of his.
“εἶπε τις, Ἡράκλειτε, τεόν μόρον, ἐς δέ με δάκρυ
ἤγαγεν, ἐμνήσθην δ’ ὁσσάκις ἀμφότεροι
ἠέλιον λέσχῃ κατεδύσαμεν. ἀλλά σύ μέν που,
ξεῖν’ Ἁλικαρνησεῦ, τετράπαλαι σποδιή·
αἱ δέ τεαί ζώουσιν ἀηδόνες, ᾗσιν ὁ πάτων
ἁρπακτής Ἀίδης οὐκ χεῖρα βαλεῖ.”
“Your death, Heracleitos, some offhand remark, brought me to tears,
as I remembered all those times the two of us,
put the sun to bed with our talk. But you, I suppose,
friend from Halicarnassus, are long-gone ash —
but your songs live on — not even Hades,
thief of everything, can lay a hand on those.”
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