Janus Vitalis' "Qui Roman in media quaeris novus advena Roma"
and eleven translations into five languages. (Please send additional
versions to emersonj at g mail dot com.)
"At the turn of
the sixteenth and seventeenth century, a Frenchman was able to read
a poem on the ruins of Rome signed by Joachim du Bellay; a Pole knew
the same poem as the work of Mikołaj
Sęp-Szarzyński;
a Spaniard, as the work of Francisco Quevedo; while the true author,
whom the others adapted without scruple, was a little-known Latin
humanist, Ianus [Janus] Vitalis of Palermo."
(P. 10 in
“Starting from my Europe”, by Czeslaw Milosz (in The Witness of
Poetry, Harvard, 1983, Norton Lectures, pp 1-21.)
Janus Vitalis'
"Qui Roman in media quaeris novus advena Roma"
is the rare case of the
completely-translatable poem, probably because it is an epigram which relies on
paraphrasable meaning, and I find Cohen's prose closing line as effective as anyone's:
"Oh
Rome, in your greatness and her beauty, what was firm has fled, and only
the transitory remains and lasts."
It can be seen that the translators allowed themselves quite a bit of
freedom in the way they set up the clinching lines -- for example, they
address the poem variously to "the stranger", "the pilgrim", "the
traveller", and "the newcomer".
The import of this poem is
really rather uncertain. It's a meditation on the transience of glory, but Rome
in its imperial phase lasted for well over five centuries, and Rome cast such a shadow on
later centuries that states were
claiming to be Rome as late as 1917. (It was the Austro- Hungarian empire in
1917: the Holy
Roman Empire had actually been abolished by Napoleon, but the Habsburg entity
had a glorious contempt for petty forms of correctness.) So I'm afraid that
those of us who are uneasy about the threat of empire can really take little
comfort from this poem, except in the knowledge that at least, as events are
taking place all around us, we still can sit here, for now, reading our books
and thinking about the past, the future, and the changes.
Janus Vitalis
Panormitanus
(Giani or Giovanni Vitali of Palermo)
De Roma*
Qui Romam in media quaeris novus advena
Roma,
Et Romae in Roma nil reperis media,
Aspice murorum moles, praeruptaque saxa,
Obrutaque horrenti vasta theatra situ:
Haec sunt Roma. Viden velut ipsa
cadavera, tantae
Urbis adhuc spirent imperiosa minas.
Vicit ut haec mundum, nixa est se vincere;
vicit,
A se non victum ne quid in orbe foret.
Nunc victa in Roma Roma illa invicta
sepulta est,
Atque eadem victrix victaque Roma fuit.
Albula Romani restat nunc nominis index,
Quinetiam rapidis fertur in aequor
aquis.
Disce hinc, quid possit fortuna; immota
labascunt,
Et quae perpetuo sunt agitata manent.
(Text from Renaissance Latin Poetry, compiled
and edited by I. D. McFarlane. Manchester University
Press/Barnes and Noble: New York, 1980; originally found in
Theodori Bezae Vezelii poematum editio secunda
[Geneva] 1569. 2nd part, p. 191-2. Thanks to Otto Steinmayer
of Sarawak, who found the text.)
Mikołaj
Sęp-Szarzyński
Ty, co Rzym
wpośród Rzyma chcąc baczyć, pielgrzymie,
A wżdy baczyć nie możesz w samym Rzyma Rzymie,
Patrzaj na okrąg murów i w rum obrócone
Teatra i kościoły, i słupy stłuczone:
To są Rzym. Widzisz, jako miasta tak możnego
I trup szczęścia poważność wypuszcza pierwszego.
To miasto, świat zwalczywszy, i siebie zwalczyło,
By nic niezwalczonego od niego nie było.
Dziś w Rzymie zwyciężonym Rzym niezwyciężony
(To jest ciało w swym cieniu) leży pogrzebiony.
Wszytko się w nim zmieniło, sam trwa prócz odmiany
Tyber, z piaskiem do morza co bieży zmieszany.
Patrz, co Fortuna broi: to się popsowało,
Co było nieruchome; trwa, co się ruchało.
If midst Rome
you wish to see Rome, pilgrim,
Tho in Rome naught of Rome might you see,
Behold the walls' ring, the theatres, temples
And ruptured pillars, to rubble all turned,
Rome be these! Mark how the corpse of a city
So strong still past fortune's pomp exudes;
Subduing a world, herself the city subdued
Lest yet more to subdue might there be.
Today in broken Rome, Rome unbroken
(A substance in its shadow) lies entombed.
Within all's changed; alone past change
Tiber remains, that to sea runs mixed with sand.
See what Fortune plays: 'tis wasted away,
What was unmoving; what moved, yet remains.
Ты в Риме хочешь Рим увидеть, пилигрим,
Но тщетно смотришь ты: средь Рима Рим незрим.
Обломки статуй и остатки стен старинных,
Театры, портики, лежащие в руинах, –
Се вечный град. Взгляни: погиб державный Рим,
Но полон труп его величием былым.
Рим, покоривший свет, себя поверг и
свету
Тем показал: пред ним неодолимых нету,
И, побежден собой – непобедимый – он
Своей гробницей стал: Рим в Риме погребен.
Переменилось всё, и лишь без измененья,
С песком мешаясь, Тибр стремит свое теченье.
Вот каверза Судьбы: лежит во прахе тот,
Кто слыл незыблемым, а зыбкое живет.
Here is something with reference to
Brodsky and this poem:
"Открытка из города К.", по Венцлове, -
сонет, в котором Кенигсберг "играет роль Рима", а автор
следует традиции "эпитафий Риму" (Ианус Виталис, Дю Белле,
Спенсер, Кеведо, Семп-Шажиньский), где "разрушенные строения
"вечного города" противопоставлены водам Тибра: парадокс,
имеющий и теологическое измерение" ("сохраняется текучеее и
ненадежное, а бренным оказывается мощное, сверхматериальное").
Таким образом, кенигсбергские стихи - подходы к римской теме у
Бродского...
"Postcard from the City
of K." -- according to [Thomas] Venclova, a sonnet in
which Konigsberg "plays the role of Rome" and the author
follows the tradition of the "epitaph for Rome" (Janus
Vitalis, Du Bellay, Spenser, Quevedo, Sęp-Szarzyński),
where "the ruined buildings of the 'eternal city' are
contrasted with the waters of the Tiber: a paradox
having theological dimensions as well" ("the flowing and
unreliable is preserved, the mighty and supersubstantial
is transitory"). Thus the Konigsberg verses are an
approach to the Roman theme in Brodsky..."
From a speech at the Brodsky
readings, which Sluzhevskay reports as Oct 28, 2000.
Here's the Brodsky poem:
Иосиф Бродский
ОТКРЫТКА ИЗ ГОРОДА К.
Томасу Венцлова
Развалины есть праздник кислорода
и времени. Новейший Архимед
прибавить мог бы к старому закону,
что тело, помещенное в пространство,
пространством вытесняется.
Вода
дробит в зерцале пасмурном руины
Дворца Курфюрста; и, небось, теперь
пророчествам реки он больше внемлет,
чем в те самоуверенные дни,
когда курфюрст его отгрохал.
Кто-то
среди развалин бродит, вороша
листву запрошлогоднюю. То - ветер,
как блудный сын, вернулся в отчий дом
и сразу получил все письма
1967
Сочинения Иосифа Бродского.
Пушкинский фонд.
Санкт-Петербург, 1992.
Many thanks to Tatyana, frequent
Language Hat commentator, for the Russian material.
Thomas Heywood
New Stranger to the City come,
Who midst of Rome enquir'st for Rome,
And midst of Rome canst nothing spye
That looks like Rome, cast backe thine eye;
Behold of walls the ruin'd mole,
The broken stones not one left whole;
Vast Theatres and Structures high,
That levell with the ground now lye,
These now are Rome, and of that Towne
Th'Imperious Reliques still do frowne,
And ev'n in their demolisht seat
The Heav'ns above them seem to threat,
As she the World did once subdue,
Ev'n to her selfe she overthrew;
Her hand in her owne bloud she embru'd,
Lest she should leave ought unsubdu'd:
Vanquisht in Rome, Invict Rome now
Intombed lies, as forc'd to bow.
The same Rome (of the World the head)
In Vanquisher and Vanquished.
The river Albula's the same,
And still preserves the Roman name;
Which with a swift and speedy motion
Is hourely hurry'd to the Ocean.
Learne hence what Fortune can; what's strong
And seemeth fixt, endures not long:
But more assurance may be layd
On what is moving and unstayed.
(From Renaissance Latin Poetry,
compiled and edited by I. D. McFarlane. Manchester University
Press/Barnes and Noble: New York, 1980; English translation
originally from Thomas Heywood from: Thomas Heywood, The
Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells, London, 1637, p. 459.)
J.
V. Cunningham
(probably from the Latin)
You that a stranger
in mid-Rome seek Rome
and can find nothing in mid-Rome of
Rome,
Behold this mass of walls, these
abrupt rocks,
Where the vast theatre lies
overwhelmed.
Here, here is Rome! Look how the very corpse
Of greatness still imperiously breathes threats!
The world she conquered, strove herself to
conquer,
conquered that nothing be unconquered by her.
Now conqueror Rome's interred in conquered Rome,
and the same Rome conquered and conqueror.
Still Tiber stays, witness of Roman fame,
Still Tiber flows on swift waves to the sea.
Learn whence what Fortune can: the unmoved falls,
And the ever-moving will remain forever.
(J. V. Cunningham, The poems of J. V.
Cunningham,
Ohio U. Press, 1997, pp. 118-9, 194-5.)
Joachim du
Bellay
Les Antiquités de Rome, #3
Nouveau venu,
qui cherches Rome en Rome
Et rien de Rome en Rome n'aperçois,
Ces vieux palais, ces vieux arcs que tu vois,
Et ces vieux murs, c'est ce que Rome on nomme.
Vois quel orgueil, quelle ruine : et comme
Celle qui mit le monde sous ses lois,
Pour dompter tout, se dompta quelquefois,
Et devint proie au temps, qui tout consomme.
Rome de Rome est le seul monument,
Et Rome Rome a vaincu seulement.
Le Tibre seul, qui vers la mer s'enfuit,
Reste de Rome. ô mondaine inconstance !
Ce qui est ferme, est par le temps détruit,
Et ce qui fuit, au temps fait résistance.
According to
Robert Paquin,
Bellay probably read Vitalis poem in a collection of poetry
published in Venice in 1554 by Gabriel Giolito under the title
Antonii Terminii Contursini Licani. Innii Albini Terminii Senioris.
Molsae, Bernardini Rotae, equitis Neapolitani, et aliorum illustrium
poetarum carmina.
Edmund Spenser
Ruins of Rome : By Bellay
Thou stranger,
which for Rome in Rome here seekest,
And nought of
Rome in Rome perceiv'st at all,
These same old
walls, old arches, which thou seest,
Old Palaces,
is that which Rome men call.
Behold what
wreak, what ruin, and what waste,
And how that
she, which with her mighty power
Tam'd all the
world, hath tam'd herself at last,
The prey of
time, which all things doth devour.
Rome now of
Rome is th' only funeral,
And only Rome
of Rome hath victory;
Ne ought save
Tyber hastening to his fall
Remains of
all: O world's inconstancy.
That which
is firm doth flit and fall away,
And that is
flitting, doth abide and stay.
This is only Part 3 of a longer poem
consisting of 32 sonnets plus an envoi. Thanks to
aldiboronti via Language Hat.
Ezra Pound
Rome, from Personae (probably from Bellay)
O thou new
comer who seek'st Rome in Rome
And find'st in
Rome no thing thou canst call Roman
Arches worn
old and palaces made common,
Rome's name
alone within these walls keeps home.
Behold how
pride and ruin can befall
One who hath
set the whole world 'neath her laws,
All-conquering, now conquered, because
She is Time's
prey and Time consumeth all.
Rome that art
Rome's one sole last monument,
Rome that
alone hast conquered Rome the town,
Tiber alone,
transient and seaward bent,
Remains of
Rome. O world, thou unconstant mime!
That which
stands firm in thee Time batters down,
And that which
fleeteth doth outrun swift time.
Francisco de
Quevedo y Villegas
Buscas en Roma
a Roma ¡oh
peregrino!
Y en Roma
misma a Roma no la hallas:
Cadáver con
las que ostentó murallas,
Y, tumba de sí
proprio, el Aventino.
Yace, donde
reinaba, el Palatino;
Y limadas del
tiempo las medallas,
Más se
muestran destrozo a las batallas
De las edades,
que blasón latino.
Soló el Tíber
quedó cuya corriente
Si ciudad la
regó, ya sepoltura
La llora con
funeste son doliente.
¡Oh
Roma!, en tu grandeza, en tu hermosura
huyó lo que
era firme, y solamente
lo fugitivo
permanece y dura.
Robert Lowell
Robert Lowell: The Ruins of Time II
(after Quevedo, in
Near the Ocean)
You search in Rome for Rome? O
Traveller!
in Rome itself, there is no room for Rome,
the Aventine is its own mound and tomb,
only a corpse receives the worshipper.
And where the Capitol once crowned the forum,
are medals ruined by the hands of time;
they show how more was lost to chance and time
than Hannibal or Caesar could consume.
The Tiber flows still, but its waste laments
a city that has fallen in its grave -
each wave's a woman beating at her breast.
O Rome! From all your palms, dominion, bronze
and beauty, what was firm has fled. What once
was fugitive maintains its permanence.
J. M. Cohen The Penguin Book of Spanish Verse
(from Quevedo)
You look for
Rome in Rome, oh traveler, and in Rome herself you do not find Rome’
the walls that she boasted of are a corpse, and the Aventine is its
own tomb.
The Palatine
lies where it used to reign, and medals filed down by time seem more
like the relics of ancient battles than the insignia of Rome.
Only the Tiber
has remained; and its current, which washed her as a city, now
bewails her as a tomb with mournful sounds of woe.
Oh Rome, in
your greatness and your beauty, what was firm has fled, and only the
transitory remains and lasts.
Alix Ingber
To Rome buried in its ruins (from
Quevedo)
You search in Rome for Rome, oh wanderer!,
and yet in Rome itself you don't find Rome:
the walls boasting its fame are now a corpse,
the Aventine now serves as its own tomb.
It lies now
where the Palatine once reigned;
and its medallions, worn away by time,
show more the devastation of the battles
of the ages than great Latium's pride.
Only the Tiber
has remained, whose flow,
if once a city watered, now, a grave,
it mourns for her with brokenhearted tones.
Oh Rome!, of
all your greatness, your allure,
that which was firm has fled, and nothing but
what is elusive stays and will endure.