| Poem for Monday |
[Dec. 22nd, 2003|10:44 am] |
Carmen 101
By Catullus
Through many nations and many seas have I come
To carry out these wretched funeral rites, brother,
That at last I may give you this final gift in death
And that I might speak in vain to your silent ashes.
Since fortune has borne you, yourself, away from me.
Oh, poor brother, snatched unfairly away from me,
Now, though, even these, which from antiquity
and in the custom of our parents, have been handed down,
a gift of sadness in the rites, accept
them, flowing with many brother´s tears,
And for eternity, my brother,
hail and farewell.
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Today's poem is gacked shamelessly from ![[info]](http://piktures.deadjournal.com/userinfo.gif) seasalt, who said she thinks of it whenever she thinks of Faramir mourning Boromir. You can read it in Latin in her journal.
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