An endless war consumes a godless century.
A thousand enemies pursue me through the courts.
What do I do? Spill streams of ink in idle thoughts
of love. They handcuff lunatics less mad than I.
‘Old grizzled chap, in doubtful health, submits anew
to Love’s hard rule.’ Mistake! Ye gods, have mercy, please.
And Eros, now you fly with the Eumenides,
you’ve made this man a blind and foolish child, like you.
To see my country locked in civil strife between
two warring, fratricidal factions: I despair.
My former mistresses, the Muses, you old hags,
farewell! No more the lovesick swain, I’ve packed my bags,
I’m off to court. I’ll get more satisfaction there
than dabbling vainly with you in the Hippocrene.