I’ve written several times on this blog about the poetry of Catullus. (See here, here, and here.)
For this blog post, I am under a considerable time-crunch, as my life has gotten considerably busier in recent days.
So, I thought I would keep it short and sweet, with a look at Catullus’ shortest extant poem (Catullus 85). The poem is an elegiac couplet, a pair of verses where the first line is in dactylic hexameter, while the second line is in dactylic pentameter (for those who know what all that means, haha).
Often in the ancient world, poets would come up with a short poem like this that summarized what the entirety of their poetry was all about. Perhaps one of these days I’ll write about some other examples in this genre. But for now, let’s talk about Catullus.
Catullus decided all his works could be summarized in terms of love, hatred, and emotional turmoil. Let’s take a look at these two lines in the original Latin, along with my own highly literal translation:
Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask?
I don’t know, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.
Those familiar with Catullus’ poetry know that he wrote many poems touching on themes related to love, as well as many poems about petty rivalries and other forms of hatred. Thus, this first line does a good job of summing up so much of his work — loving and hating.
However, the second line perhaps gives us room for pause: how does he not know why he does the things he does? Perhaps this shows just how strong his emotions and hormones are, that they override his reason, thus showing a lack of self-control on his part. Perhaps it hints at a lack of introspection as well?
A professor of mine once opined that younger classicists tend to be drawn to Catullus, while older classicists tend to be drawn to Horace. (I’ve translated Horace before on this blog; see here and here.) Catullus has the vibrancy, the sentimentality, the emotionalism we might associate with the folly of youth — as well as the anger, agitation, and vulgarity. Horace, in contrast, has many poems that are calm and cerebral, and age like fine wine. Many of Horace’s poems are difficult at first blush, but on further study reveal within themselves a tremendous beauty.
I apologize if you were looking for a longer piece. I suddenly find myself much busier these days. I fear what I might have to do for the 30th of June, since I will be traveling a lot in the next two weeks. (That is largely why I’ve found little time to devote to the blog for this present post as well.)