The Librarian's Lament

Callimachus was the head of the Great Library at Alexandria.
I expanded a tiny epigram to let him boast a little about his day job.

THE LIBRARIAN’S LAMENT

by Brett Rutherford

     adapted from Callimachus, Epigram 34

“But you haven’t any money.”
What kind of bedroom talk is that?
Listen Menippus, in the name of gods
and the Graces, don’t talk that way.
Would you tell me my own dreams
or blow my breath back into
my nostrils? It’s not as though
my purse had nothing in it
but nail clippings and navel lint.

I am the one in charge, the one
you ask questions of, when you
come begging for wisdom
at the library’s high desk.
And not just any library,
mind you, the Big One.

Here in the great city
of the Ptolemies,
every living author knows me,
solicits my help
in finding rare manuscripts.
I alone know
where everything is.

All Alexandria honors me
as author already
of some seven hundred
works. Does that seem poor
to you. By narrow bed
and simple furniture
you dare to judge me?

You do not tell the lame
they are crippled, or say
to the blind man, “Look here!”
It’s just that bitter to me
to have my lack of wealth
thrown back at me,
as though I had shamed
my ancestors. How crude,
and how unworthy.

Wake up in joy
in the bed you fell into,
with the one who will have you,
or do not wake at all!