"You Shun Me"

(Horace, Odes 1.23)

translated by Peter Saint-Andre

You shun me like a fawn that's seeking
Through trackless hills her mother peeking,
      Ill with fear of the woods and breeze;

When pliant leaves the spring winds rustle
Or lizards through the bushes bustle
      She trembles in her heart and knees.

But not I like the tiger savage
Or wild lion seek to ravage:
      So come, you're ripe a man to please.

Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Ancient Fire