Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 5

Horace:  You book me, Ode 5.

_"Quis fines gracilis you puer in rosa"_


That that lady-as youth in his/her wild aberrations
  Is you/he/she putting eau de cologne on his/her eyebrow?
For that the puffs and the transformations of blond are?
  I wonder me who is kissing now her.
[The footnote:  her note of Paraphraser:  Horace struck the modern song
           writers to this. The translation is literal
           enough--"Quis... puer of you of gracilis... the urget?".]

Hee of the you! I have to laugh when I think about his/her end,
  I don't test to Your ways and Your reputation.
Have! have! as its desire for You will decrease!
  I know, for me I am Jonathan Hep.



Jealousy

AD LYDIAM

Horace:  You book me., Ode 13.

You of _"Quem, Lydia, Telephi
Roseam of Cervicem, waxen Telephi--"_


What a time you yearnest for the arm
 Of Telephus, me fains would twist 'the em;
When you dosts praise its other charms
 It hardly upsets my notorious system;
My brain is as a circus of three-ring,
In short, it finds my _capra hircus_.

My spools of reason, my cheeks grow pale,
 My heart improperly becomes spiteful,
My verses in the _Evening Mail_
 It is away from energetic and delicious.
I put a civil question Lyddy,:
Is that a way of treating the stiddy of one?

What do I win those marks on thee, girl?
 Those presses of brutal osculation?
Pain Gran! that lowlives and that churls!
 That disgust of Telephus!
Can him, votary of Or of Venus,
Other everything is away among us.

Or triply beatific those
  Of whom is you/he/she is classified as him gotten married,
Unperturbed from the pains from the green eyes,
  From such liftings not harried never.
Ay, three times happy it is you marry him/it one,
Who split together up to them it is a corpses.



Being Completely Frank

IN CHLORIN

Horace:  You book III, Ode 15.

"Pauperis of _Uxor Ibyci_--"


Your behavior, mischievous Chloris is
Not only precisely Horace
 Ideal of a lady
 To the shady one
  Time of the life;
You don't have to throw away Your soul
On foolishness as Pholoe--
 Its days are folly-loaded--
 You are a young girl,