Horace Odes 1:5
Which under-muscled, over-perfumed boy
is groping you on roses in your love-nest,
Pyrrha? Who’s inspired you to wash and cut
your honey-colored hair like this?
God knows how many times he’ll curse
the bad luck that made him love you,
and be flabbergasted by the force tens
blackening your little sea.
The idiot. He drinks your sunshine down
and thinks the wind will never change.
Those miserable men. You dazzle them
but no one ever ties up in your harbor.
As for me, you can read my story
on the temple wall: just another rescued
sailor who has offered up his sodden boots
to the great god of the sea.