Creative Translation of Statius, Silvae 1.6

Introduction

This translation of Statius’s Saturnalia poem attempts to do something different from other, more conventional translations. Its approach is based on an attested theory that a colloquial translation which draws on the conventions of English poetry rather than the foreign source material is more accessible for a wider audience and creates interest in the original poem. This translation exists to be a bridge to its more literal counterparts, which require more context but communicate more of the original meaning. In the case of this particular poem, the connection is made through an English children’s poem, Robert Clarke Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas.” There are a number of elements in common that allow Statius’s poem to be appreciated close to the surface and inspire enthusiastic readers to dive in further.

The Feast of Happy Caesar

‘Twas the first of December, and scarcely yet morn’

All of Rome filled the theater: slaves and freeborn;

With the Gods on vacation and Saturn released,

Domitian had laid out a holiday feast.

And down from the heavens, at least from a line: 

There were figs, dates, and sugar-plums, sweetmeats sublime.

They showered like dewdrops or rain from a tree

And don’t forget Gaius, that gingerbread he.

It was here in the seats that we weathered the storm:

The likes of which never before had been formed. 

And while Jove imports clouds with a thunderous gale

Just let our Jove deluge us with sugary hail.

And now through the aisles, in handsome array,

Comes a new sort of crowd, with intention to stay.

With their bread, wine, and napkins, and all that they need, 

Like godly cupbearers, that famed Ganymede.

And what god as a host of a party would show

When they might have prepared with no reason to go?

Now no matter their status, their rank or their place

They can brag to have guested, been-quested your grace. 

Oh poor men, oh rich men, oh women, oh kids,

Now call back the golden age custom forbids.

Does the wine flow more freely, or harvest outlast?

This holiday freedom has reverence on fast.

So bring out the women, all armed to their teeth 

And like Amazons, watch them all battle beneath.

And of much smaller warriors, wonders consist,

Who in foreshortened battles, just fight with their fists.

As the shadows start stretching, the next thing arrives:

Welcome dancers and prancers, and Spain’s rent-a-wives.

There are actors, and drummers, and music and mayhem,

And they’ll do what you want just as long as you pay them.

And then from the clouds comes a feathery flock.

There are pheasants, flamingos, and fowl; with a squawk,

They descend on the crowd, far too many to seize, 

Now they’re prizes collected, and everyone’s pleased.

Under stars of the night you can hear them all say:

“Give our prayers to Domitian and this joyful day.

Great leader you’ve gifted us so much, we know, 

So hear us on high, Saturnalia, IO!” 

It was barely then dark when from depth of the gloom,

Came a blazing red fire, like springtime’s first bloom.

Out of shadow, came shining, the sky was alight.

And it furnished no power for shadows of night

Let Silence and Sleep see this show of command

And run off like migrants to far-away lands.

What poet could sing of the jokes, and the jinks,

All the banquets, the foodstuffs, and free-flowing drinks?

After all this I found myself drunken and spent,

And let Bacchus save me from the other events. 

I tipsily got into much needed bed,

While all the day’s revelries danced in my head.

In what distant ages shall this be recalled,

Near as fresh as the day when initially scrawled?

With Latium, Tiber, and Capitol Hill, 

So the Rome you rebuilt, stands now as it will.