by Brett Rutherford
Adapted from Leonidas, The Greek Anthology, vi, 292.
a rude staff, two worn
and re-sewn sandals
that everyone knows
belonged to the Cynic
Sochares, whose gaze
went up and over us
without a glimmer
of romantic interest.
See now, his dingy
oil-flask, his worn-out
change-purse full of holes,
his carry-bag full
of crumpled papers,
that long essay
he never finished.
Is he dead? Oh,
not at all. Rhodon
the beautiful one
has made him swoon
with late-arriving love
and the lad made off
with everything portable.
Rhodon, a thief? Ah, no,
for all the booty hangs here
on the temple porch,
a testament to Eros,
and proof that every man,
even a philosopher
with an averted eye,
even an all-knowing
graybeard can fall
from his high perch,
his strong will quenched
by tender passions.
Hail, Rhodon,
youth mightier
than all philosophy!
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