Hi all,
I’m working on Alcaeus’ two allegorical boat poems. I’ve made myself a crib, from there worked into something more free and poetic than the crib. I’m curious as to how accurate my crib is, and then if there are any groaners in moving from the crib to the poem.
fr. 6
τόδ’ αὖτε κῦμα τὼ προτέρω νέμω
στείχει, παρέξει δ’ ἄμμι πόνον πόλυν
ἄντλην, ἐπεί κε νᾶος ἔμβα
όμεθ’ ἐ
Crib: Again this waves marches [in order–a military word?] as the previous one. It [will- παρέξει is future] promises us much work to bail out when it enters the ship’s.
[I couldn’t make much sense of how to deal with ‘ἔμβα / όμεθ’ ἐ’ so I left it blank.
φαρξώμεθ’ ὠς ὤκιστα τοίχοις,
ἐς δ’ ἔχυρον λίμενα δρόμωμεν·
Crib: defend/strengthen the sides of the ship as swiftly as possible, and let us race into a safe harbor.
καὶ μή τιν’ ὄκνος μόλθακος ἀμμέων
λάβη· προδηλον γὰρ μέγ’ ἀέθλιον·
μνάσθητε τὼ πάροιθε μόχθω·
νῦν τις ἄνηρ δόκιμος γενέσθω.
Crib: Do not let soft/gentle death seize us. For a great thing/event clearly contends [in a battle] with us. Remember the previous toils, and now let every mad stand firm in battle.
καὶ μὴ καταισχύνωμεν ἀνανδρίᾳ
ἔσλοις τόκηας γᾶς ὔπα κειμένοις·
Crib: and let us not shame our by means of cowardice our brave ancestors who lie below the earth.
fr. 208
ἀσυννέτημμι τὼν ἀνέμων στάσιν·
τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἔνθεν κῦμα κυλίνδεται,
τὸ δ’ ἔνθεν ἄμμες δ’ ὂν τὸ μέσσον
νᾶι φορήμμεθα σὺν μελαίνᾳ
Crib: I cannot sense/perceive the direction/strife of the wind; one wave rolls in from here, another from there, and we who are in the middle, are carried along with our black ship…
χείμωνι μόχθεντες μεγάλῳ μάλα·
πὲρ μὲν γὰρ ἄντλος ἰστοπέδαν ἔχει,
λαῖφος δὲ πὰν ζάδηλον ἤδη,
καὶ λάκιδες μέγαλαι κὰτ αὖτο,
Crib: exceedingly distressed by the great winter storm. For floodwater? covers the masthold [? a piece of wood that the mast rests on], and the whole tattered sail is already full of holes [ζάδηλον - every crib suggests this has something to do with light, but I could only get there by imagining ηλον is ἥλιος]; and there are great rents in them.
χάλαισι δ’ ἄγκυρραι, τὰ δ’ ὀή[ϊα
Crib: the anchors slacken and the rudders…
[ ]
[ ]
τοι πόδες ἀμφότεροι μένο[ισιν
ἐν βιμβλίδεσσι· τοῦτό με καὶ σ[άοι
μόνον· τὰ δ’ ἄχματ’ ἐκπεπάχμενα
]μεν ρηντ’ ἔπερθα· τὼν[
]ενοις [
Crib: both of my feet remain [stuck] in the rope; this alone saves me. [I couldn’t make sense of the remaining and left it be]
Here’s what I did with them (in draft form still):
fr. 6
Another strong wave strides into our ship
and brings with it the certainty of more
suffering. Quick, bail out the billows that
cascade into our craft…
Hurry, fortify the flanks. Let’s make
for the nearest port.
Fear offers peace, and tempts us from this task:
a great endeavor clearly looms before us.
Remember the trials we’ve already faced, and stand
firm for the battle—
no cowards among us. We will not shame
our famous ancestors who lie in earth.
fr. 208
The wind’s at odds with itself—one wave rolls in
from here, the next from there, and in the middle
we are borne along in our black ships and cry out
into the tempest.
Bilge-water drowns the masthold and now light
pours through the great rents of our tattered sails.
Our anchors slacken and the rudders—
Both of my feet
remain tangled in the ropes. This alone
saves me—
Any and all thoughts are appreciated.
-Andrew