Passer mortuus est meae puellae

[nullalux]

Talulah died this afternoon. threetimes and I were holding her in the vet office, waiting for the doctor. She fluttered, stiffened, relaxed, and was gone.

Home again, I need to keep my eyes and hands full. A clumsy translation of 3 Catullus, along with Talulah's memory, has occupied this last hour. I'll not think of the many hours to come.

Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum venustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
Nam mellitus erat suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.
At vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.
O factum male! O miselle passer!
Tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

Mourn, Graces and Loves, 
and all those loved by such. 
The sparrow of my girl is dead, 
the sparrow, pet of my girl, 
whom she loved more than her eyes themselves; 
for he was honey-sweet, and knew her 
the same as a girl knows her mother. 
Not stirring from her lap, 
but hopping about here and there, 
he was continually cooing only to his mistress. 
Now he goes along a shadowy way, 
to a place from where they say no one returns. 
But curses on you, wicked shades 
of Orcus, who devour all things of beauty:
for you have taken away my beautiful sparrow. 
Oh, cruelty! Poor sparrow! 
Now all because of you, my girl's dear eyes 
are heavy and red with tears.

I have no doubt battered sense and syntax, and it is a poorer offering to the gods than knucklebones. But I wonder, did I live only to see so much death?

Comments

Poor Tallulah

[whobunkyboo.livejournal.com]

Your posts about her made me sad.

The poem made me sad too. I am a Sparrow. (Born one, and I'll die one: but not today!)

Re: Poor Tallulah

[chalepa-ta-kala.livejournal.com]

Catullus's words to Calvus have helped calm my mind today:

Si quicquam mutis gratum acceptumve sepulcris
accidere a nostro, Calve, dolore potest,
quo desiderio veteros renovamus amores
atque olim missas flemus amicitias,
certe non tanto mors immatura dolorist
Quintiliae, quantum gaudet amore tuo.

If anything in our grief is able to reach beyond
the mute grave, Calvus, and be pleasing and welcome,
[grief] with which, longing, we revive our old loves,
and cry for vanished friendships known before,
surely Quintilia is not as sad for her early death
as joyful for your love.

Thanks.

[whobunkyboo.livejournal.com]

And the gods should be just fine with it.

[rosefox]

You gave her love and comfort in her last days and kept her company after her mate was gone. I can't imagine a better offering than that.

[chalepa-ta-kala.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Rose, for your thoughts. I miss her chirping and sass a great deal, but the other birds will no doubt fill the silence, at least, once I get home. I'm composing a restrained but direct letter to the school that "owned" the budgies, encouraging them to rethink their classroom pet situation, or at the very least, to educate themselves and provide proper vet care for the birds and rabbits.

condolences

[cowgirlnoir.livejournal.com]

just saw this. I don't know how Catullus manages to be so light or fluid and yet so affecting in his poetry. Is v. un-Roman. I'm sorry your eyes are heavy and red with tears and even more that T. is gone to pester heroes on the Elysian fields.

Re: condolences

[chalepa-ta-kala.livejournal.com]

Although I usually prefer the orators over the poets, Catullus was, I think, my favorite Latin class.

And "pester" is right, I'm sure. She has a mean beak when she cares to use it.