Jenny Harris, 1st prize (18-and-under)

Odes I.IX

Vides, ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte, nec iam sustineant onus
silvae laborantes, geluque
flumina constiterint acuto.

Dissolve frigus ligna super foco
large reponens, atque benignius
deprome quadrimum Sabina,
O Thaliarche, merum diota.

Permitte divis cetera, qui simul
stravere ventos aequore fervido
deproeliantis, nec cupressi
nec veteres agitantur orni.

Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere et,
quem fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro
appone, nec dulces amores
sperne puer neque tu choreas,

donec virenti canities abest
morosa. Nunc et campus et areae
lenesque sub noctem susurri
composita repetantur hora,

nunc et latentis proditor intimo
gratus puellae risus ab angulo
pignusque dereptum lacertis
aut digito male pertinaci.

Odes I: IX

Look at how it stands
Gleaming white with deep snowfall,
Mount Soracte there;

And the creaking woods
Groaning under all the weight;
Rivers sharp with ice.

Drive away the cold,
Piling logs upon the fire
With a lavish hand:

Thaliarchus, pour
Generously from the jar
My four-year-old wine.

Leave the gods the rest,
Even when the winds make war
On the seething sea,

They will calm them down;
Cypress and old mountain ash
Will no more be stirred.

Ask the future not
How many days you have left:
Count them all as gain.

While you’re green, young, free
From fretful greyness, don’t shun
Sweet love and dancing.

Now in parks and squares,
Softly whispered in the night,
Secret rendez-vous:

Look for them again –
Pleasing laughs from a secret
Corner that betray

The girl hiding there;
A token snatched from her arm
Or teasing finger.

Translated from the Latin by Jenny Harris
  [Commentary on the poem by the translator]   

Copyright Statement / Webdesign by inter.TxT spacer