1. Redit aestas cunctis grata,
viret herbis iam per prata;
nemus frondibus ornatur,
sic per frondes renovatur.
5. Bruma vilis, nebulosa,
erat nobis taediosa.
cum Aprilis redit gratus
10. replet nemoris amoena,
et puellae per plateas
intricatas dant choreas.
Omnis ergo adolescens
in amore sit fervescens
15. quaerat cum quo delectetur
et, ut amet, sic ametur.
Et amicum virgo decens
talem quaerat, qui sit recens
atque velit modo pari
20. tam amare quam amari.
Iuvenis et virgo pulchra
in obscure premant fulcra,
et vicissim per connexus
dulces sibi dent amplexus,
25. osculetur os, maxillam,
iuvenis dum tenet illam;
tangat pectus et papillam
satis aptam et pauxillam.
Femur femori iungatur,
30. fructus Veneris sumatur,
nunc omnino cesset clamor:
adimplebitur sic amor.
The warmth has returned, gratifying to all, and the grass is growing strongly in the meadows. The woods are decorated with foliage, for thus they are renewed with leaves.
The vile mist, the cloudy weather, was so tedious to us, but now with April’s gratifying return flowers spring up on all sides.
The nightingales’ song re-completes the charm of the groves. The maidens in the village squares dance intricate group dances.
Let, therefore, every youth be on fire with love, and every youth seek out the girl he likes, so that, as he loves, so he may be loved.
And let the well brought-up young girl look out for a new boy-friend, one willing to share equally, to love, and to be loved.
Let the youth and the beautiful young girl press upon the bed-supports in the darkness, and clinging together, let them give each other sweet embraces.
Let him kiss her mouth, her cheeks, while he thus holds her; he fondles her chest and breasts, which are small and so fit just right into his hand.
Let loin be joined to loin, and the fruits of love thus tasted. Then let absolute silence descend, and so their love will reach its completion.
_ 1. (Puer) Iam, dulcis amica, venito
quam sicut cor meum diligo:
intra in cubiculum meum
ornamentis cunctis onustum.
2. Ibi sunt sedilia strata
atque velis domus ornata
floresque in domo sparguntur
herbaeque fragrantes miscentur. 3. Est ibi mensa apposita
universis cibis onusta:
ibi clarum vinum abundant
et quiquid te, cara, delectat.
4. Ibi sonant dulces symphoniae,
inflantur et altius tibiae;
ibi puer et docta puella
pangunt tibi carmina bella.
5. Hic cum plectro citharam tangit,
illa melos cum lyra pangit;
portantque ministri pateras
pigmentatis poculis plenas.
6.(Puella) Non me iuvat tantum convivium
quantum post dulce colloquium,
nec rerum tantarum ubertas
ut dilecta familiaritas.
7. (Puer) Iam nunc veni, soror electa
et prae cunctis mihi dilecta
lux meae clara pupillae
parsque major anime meae.
8.(Puella) Ego fui sola in silva
et dilexi loca secreta;
frequenter effugi tumultum
et vitavi populum multum.
9. (Puer) Iam nix glaciesque liquescit,
folium et herba virescit;
Philomela iam cantat in alto:
Ardet amor cordis in antro.
10. Karissima, noli tardare;
studeamus nos nunc amare:
sine te non potero vivere;
iam decet amorem perficere.
11. Quid iuvat diferre, electa,
quae sunt tamen post facienda?
fac cito quod eris factura,
in me non est aliqua mora.
_ (He) Now, my sweet friend, come, you who I love like my own heart, come into my chamber, filled with every sort of ornament.
Here are benches and bed-couches, and the room is decorated with tapestries: flowers have been scattered throughout the room, mixed with fragrant herbs.
Here a table has been set out, loaded down with every sort of food; here is a great quantity of fine wine, and everything which you, my dear, like.
Here sweet music sounds from many instruments, here the pipes are blown with higher note. Here are a servant-boy and a well-trained maidservant, who will sing beautiful songs for you.
He plucks the zither with the plectrum, and prepare music with the lyre, and the servants bring out painted platters full of cups of spiced wine.
(She) I do not like such parties so much as the sweetness of talking afterwards with you, nor do I like such richness so much as sweet friendship.
(He) Now come, sister chosen as my own, you who are dearer to me than any other, you who are the clear light of my eyes, and the greater part of my soul.
(She) I was solitary, living in the woods, and loving the secret places there, time and again I fled from crowds, and life amidst crowds of people.
(He) Now the snow and ice is melting away, the leaves and the grasses are growing strongly, the nightingale sings on high, and loves burns in the depths of my heart.
O most dear, do not delay, we must think about how we should make love, without you I cannot live, and it would be right to fulfil that love.
Why, my chosen one, postpone what needs to be done anyway? Do quickly what you are going to do. In me you will find absolutely no delay.
Patera (a variant of patella) is normally a broad, flat dish but here presumably being used as a tray. Pigmentātus meant painted or coloured in classical Latin so the phrase pigmentatis poculis might mean `with painted cups’ but as the adjective had developed the meaning `spiced’ in medieval times, the Penguin translation is probably right to take it as referring to the wine inside the cups..
Or, perhaps, taking stūdēre in the original meaning of `be enthusiastic’, `now is the time to press on with our love’ (as in the Penguin version).
_ 1. Sidus clarum
flos et decus omnium,
clarior quam lilium.
2. Tui forma
me de norma
Veneri me subicit.
3. Pro te deae
libens porto vincula,
corde fero spicula.
4. Ut in lignis
siccis cum subducitur
sic mens mea
pro te, dea,
fervet et comburitur
5. Dic, quis durus,
quis tam purus,
carens omni crimine,
quem non dotes
tuae possint flectere?
6. Vivat Cato,
qui sic fuit rigidus,
captus erit fervidus
7. Fore suum
Venus ipsa cuperet,
suum quod exuperet.
8. Frons et gula
et visus angelicus
9. Tibi dentes
pulchre sedent labia,
mellea sunt suavia.
10. Et tuarum
forma satis parvula
nive magis candida.
11. Quodquod manus,
et statura gracilis
te sic formant
quod nimis es habilis.
12. Nitent crura –
sed quid plura?
superas et genere.
13. Et idcirco,
nulli sit mirabile
si mens mea
pro te, dea,
laesa sit a Venere.
14. Quare precor,
te satis summopere,
causa sit hoc pectore.
_ Bright star of the girls, flower and ornament of them all, rose of spring, and to all those who see you whiter than any lily.
Your figure throws me out of my normal way of life, your face, your smile, make me fall deeply in love.
For you I willingly carry the shackles of the Cytherian goddess, and bear in my heart the dart of her winged son.
As fire burns ardently in dry wood when it is thrown in, so my mind burns and flames for you, my Goddess.
Say, who is so hard, who so pure, who so free of sin that your qualities could not sway him?
Long life to Cato, to whom God gave such rigidity, but he would be captured by your beauty, and would burn with love.
Your hair Venus herself would envy, if she saw it, and would grieve that hers was less fine.
Your face and throat without any wrinkles, and your angelic countenance, show people that you are heavenly, not earthly.
Your teeth shine, and sit so beautifully within your lips, which, if ever I kiss them, are as sweet as honey.
And your breasts, beautifully small, not swelling, but so white, whiter, indeed, than snow.
What hands! And a belly so flat! And such a graceful posture! You are so made, so adorned, that you are just too well formed!
Your legs so elegant – but why say any more? You surpass the goddesses of heaven and of earth in beauty and breeding.
And therefore, O good girl, it is in no way surprising if I have been wounded by desire for you, my Goddess!
Wherefore, I pray you, Beauty of the World, with all mystrength, that you might bring love, and not sorrow, to my breast!
Or perhaps `Suppose that Cato were to return to life’
Mellea is a common medieval word-form meaning "things made of honey", as vitrea ("things made of glass"), lintea ("underclothes", "things made of linen"), lactea ("dairy products", "things made of milk"), etc.
_ 1. De ramis cadunt folia,
nam viror totus periit;
iam calor liquit omnia
nam signa caeli ultima
2. Iam nocet frigus teneris,
et avis bruma laeditur,
et philomena ceteris
quod illis ignis aetheris
3. Nunc lympha caret alveus,
nec prata virent herbida;
sol nostra fugit aureus
est inde dies niveus,
4. Modo frigescit quicquid est,
sed solus ego caleo;
immo sic mihi cordi est
hic ignis tamen virgo est,
5. Nutritur ignis osculo
et leni tactu virginis;
in suo lucet oculo
nec est in toto saeculo
6. Ignis graecus extinguitur
cum vino iam acerrimo;
sed iste non extinguitur
immo fomento alitur
_ The leaves fall from the branches, and vitality and strength disappear from all things, warmth evaporates from everything, and flees away, for the sun has entered the very last of the Signs of the Zodiac.
Now the cold harms tender things, the bird is stricken by the winter, while the nightingale complains to the othersthat the warmth of heaven is taken away from them.
Now the river-bed lacks water, and no grasses are growing strongly in the meadows, for the sun has fled our boundaries of the summer sky, this is the time of snowy days, and icy nights.
Now everything which is, freezes, and only I am hot, or rather it is my heart which burns, this fire of which I sicken, is a girl.
The source of this fire was a kiss, and the soft touch of this girl, in her eyes shines a bright light, nothing in the whole world could be more divine.
Greek fire can be extinguished by wine which has been turned into the sharpest vinegar, but this cannot be extinguished for poor me, but rather it is fed by most abundant fuel.
Literally, `the light of light’
_ Aestuans intrinsecus ira vehementi
in amaritudine loquor meae menti.
factus de materia levis elementi
folio sum similis, de quo ludunt venti.
Cum sit enim proprium viro sapienti,
supra petram ponere sedem fundamenti,
stultus ego comparor fluvio labenti,
sub eodem aere numquam permanenti.
Feror ego veluti sine nauta navis,
ut per vias aeris vaga fertur avis;
non me tenent vincula, non me tenet clavis,
quaero mei similes et adiungor pravis.
Mihi cordis gravitas res videtur gravis,
iocus est amabilis dulciorque favis.
quicquid Venus imperat, labor est suavis,
que numquam in cordibus habitat ignavis.
Via lata gradior more iuventutis,
implico me vitiis immemor virtutis,
voluptatis avidus magis quam salutis,
mortuus in anima curam gero cutis.
Praesul discretissime, veniam te precor,
morte bona morior, dulci nece necor,
meum pectus sauciat puellarum decor,
et quas tactu nequeo, saltem corde moechor.
Res est arduissima vincere naturam,
in aspectu virginis mentem esse puram;
iuvenes non possumus legem sequi duram
leviumque corporum non habere curam.
Quis in igne positus igne non uratur?
quis Papiae demorans castus habeatur,
ubi Venus digito iuvenes venatur,
oculis illaqueat, facie praedatur?
Si ponas Hippolytum hodie Papiae,
non erit Hippolytus in sequenti die.
Veneris in thalamos ducunt omnes viae,
non est in tot turribus turris Alethiae.
Secundo redarguor etiam de ludo,
sed cum ludus corpore me dimittit nudo,
frigidus exterius, mentis estu sudo;
tunc versus et carmina meliora cudo.
Teruo capitulo memoro tabernam:
illam nullo tempore sprevi neque spernam,
donec sanctos angelos venientes cernam,
cantantes pro mortuis: «Requiem eternam.»
Meum est propositum in taberna mori,
ut sint vina proxima morientis ori;
tunc cantabunt laetius angelorum chori:
«Sit Deus propitius huic potatori.»
Poculis accenditur animi lucerna,
cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna.
mihi sapit dulcius vinum de taberna,
quam quod aqua miscuit praesulis pincerna.
Loca vitant publica quidam poetarum
et secretas eligunt sedes latebrarum,
student, instant, vigilant nec laborant parum,
et vix tandem reddere possunt opus clarum.
Ieiunant et abstinent poetarum chori,
vitant rixas publicas et tumultus fori,
et ut opus faciant, quod non possit mori,
moriuntur studio subditi labori.
Unicuique proprium dat Natura munus:
ego numquam potui scribere ieiunus,
me ieiunum vincere posset puer unus.
sitim et ieiunium odi tamquam funus.
Unicuique proprium dat Natura donum:
ego versus faciens bibo vinum bonum,
et quod habent purius dolia cauponum;
vinum tale generat copiam sermonum.
Tales versus facio, quale vinum bibo,
nihil possum facere nisi sumpto cibo;
nihil valent penitus, que ieiunus scribo,
Nasonem post calices carmine praeibo.
Mihi numquam spiritus poetriae datur,
nisi prius fuerit venter bene satur;
dum in arce cerebri Bacchus dominatur,
in me Phebus irruit et miranda fatur.
Ecce meae proditor pravitatis fui,
de qua me redarguunt servientes tui.
sed corum nullus est accusator sui,
quamvis velint ludere seculoque frui.
Iam nunc in presentia praesulis beati
secundum dominici regulam mandati
mittat in me lapidem neque parcat vari,
cuius non est animus conscius peccati.
Sum locutus contra me, quicquid de me novi,
et virus evomui, quod tam diu fovi.
vita vetus displicet, mores placent novi;
homo videt faciem, sed cor patet Iovi.
Iam virtutes diligo, vitiis irascor,
renovatus animo spiritu renascor;
quasi modo genitus novo lacte pascor,
ne sit meum amplius vanitatis vas cor.
Electe Coloniae, parce penitenti,
fac misericordiam veniam petenti,
et da penitentiam culpam confitenti;
feram, quicquid iusseris, animo libenti.
Parcit enim subditis leo, rex ferarum,
et est erga subditos immemor irarum;
et vos idem facite, principes terrarum:
quod caret dulcedine, nimis est amarum.
_ Burning, here inside, with a violent anger,
from a deep bitterness in my mind, I utter:
from elemental ashes formed, mere matter,
as the wind lashes, like a leaf I flutter.
If it’s the proper mark of the man of wisdom
on the rock to create a secure foundation,
I am the fool, compared to the stream’s motion,
never a single course nor a settled notion.
I am always borne along helpless through the sea,
cutting the paths of air a wild bird flying free,
no chains here to bind, no locks confine me,
I seek those similar, and keep them beside me.
An over-heavy heart seems to me hard labour:
having fun is pleasanter, than the honey sweeter,
Venus, what she decrees, such tasks joys are ever,
that to the duller heart stay unknown forever.
I go the broad path young in my fashion,
vices entangle me, virtues are forgotten,
greedy for all delights, more than my salvation,
moribund in the soul, flesh instead my passion.
Honoured Archbishop, to you I do confess,
it’s a goodly death I die, self-murder by excess:
stricken to the heart by female loveliness,
those that I cannot touch, I mentally possess.
It’s a thing most difficult to overcome our nature,
seeing some maiden fair, keeping our minds pure;
being young how can we obey so harsh a law,
for the body’s lightness, there is no known cure.
Who in the fire’s depths feels not the flame?
Who detained in Pavia, lives there without blame,
where Venus beckoning youths to the game,
seduces with her eyes, her quarry for to tame?
Set down Hippolytus  in Pavia today,
there’d be no Hippolytus the succeeding day.
To love, beneath the sheets, leads every single way,
among all these spires, Truth’s nowhere to stay.
Secondly I confess addiction to gaming,
such that my body’s bare from the wretched dicing,
yet cold on the outside in my mind I’m sweating;
verses and songs I’m more readily begetting.
The third charge, of all I think of, is the tavern:
I’ve never passed one by, I shall never spurn them,
until the holy choirof angels I discern them,
singing for the dead: ‘Requiem eternam.’
Myself I propose tavern-bound to die,
so my fading lips can sense the wine near-by;
then let angelic voices sing this song on high:
‘God show his mercy to a tippler such as I.’
May the light of my soul in the wine-cup burn,
heart steeped in nectar, sight of heaven earn.
I am wiser from the wine of the nearest tavern,
than from what your butler waters in his turn.
All the poets that spurn populated spaces,
and seek out privately quiet hiding places,
study, toil, burn the oil never show their faces,
scraping work together so muddled it disgraces.
Let them fast and abstain all that poetic choir,
from the public brawl, and clamour, lifted higher,
creating works that fresh ages will inspire,
dying of their zeal slaving for their hire.
To each one Nature gives their own, proper task
Never could I write until I break my fast
A boy could beat a hungry me even without trying
Thirst and hunger I do hate as much as dying.
To each one Nature gives their unique endowment:
when I’m making verses Idrink for my enjoyment,
with the very innkeeper who the purest cask blent;
such wine creates the bestwritten entertainment.
Such is the verse I write, such the wine I drink,
not a word can I indite unless I eat and think;
nothing has inner power when I fast above the ink,
the nearer Ovid in my verse the more the wine I sink.
Never does the spirit of poetry visit me
if there aren’t enough rations in my belly;
when in my arching brain Bacchus controls me,
Phoebus erupts again uttering marvellously.
Behold me the worker of depravity and worse,
all that your servants so eagerly rehearse.
Yet no one condemns their souls, with a curse,
though in every secular enjoyment they immerse.
Now I am before you, in your sacred presence,
follow the law laid downb y Our Lord, its essence:
let those cast stones at me, I offer no defence,
if in their hearts they are wholly innocents.
I confess to everythingthat is said against me,
and eschew the poison, that fomented in me.
I despise my former life, now new morals guide me;
men may see my face, God looks deep inside me.
Angered by all vice, I prize every virtue,
cleansed within the mind, now my spirit does renew;
like a babe in arms in milky pastures new,
falsehood no longer in my heart shall brew.
My lord of Cologne, spare the penitent,
let showing mercy be your sole intent,
grant now a penance to one not innocent,
I’ll do as you command, with my free consent.
Since the lion, king of beasts, pardons those below,
as regards his subjects stemming anger’s flow;
princes of the earth do you likewise, also:
one who lacks sweetness all bitterness shall know.
 Pavia is a city in northern Italy, where the poet, though most likely born in Germnay, had lived for some time.
 In Greek mythology Hippolytus was the son of Theseus and devoted himself to the virgin goddess Artemis (Diana) rather than to Aphrodite (Venus). He spurned the advances of his step-mother, Phaedra, who in revenge accused him of raping her, and he was subsequently cursed by Theseus and killed by a monster sent by Poseidon (Neptune).
 This stanza was translated by John Whelpton as it is omitted in Kline's version.