Posted by: Mark | January 25, 2010

Dirty/Clean

I thought I posted this before but for those interested, various translations of Aristophanes:

Presented without comment, two translations of the plays of Aristophanes, the first by Jeffrey Henderson, professor of Classical Studies at Boston University, the next by translators of Bantam Classics: Jack Lindsay, and B.B. Rogers.

Lysistrata (1) Jeffrey Henderson (2) Jack Lindsay

line 130: 

All right. We’re going to have to give up–cock.

We must refrain from all touch of baubled love. . .

1004:

Yea frightful agony, thou wretch,
dost rack the soul of one so sore bediddled.
Sure I do feel for thee, alack!
What kidney could bear it
what soul, what balls,
what loins, what crotch,
thus stretched on the rack
and deprived of a morning fuck?

Balked in your amorous delight
How melancholy is your plight
With sympathy your case I view!
What loins, I ask, what liver too,
What cods, what buttocks, could sustain
This awful stretch and stiffening strain,
And not a single trace
Of lewd-thighed wenches in the place!

Women at the Thesmophoria (1) Jeffrey Henderson (2) B.B. Rogers

157:

Holy Genetyllides, what a pretty song! How feministic and deep-kissed and tongue-tickled! Just hearing it brought a tingle to my very butt!

Wonderful! Wonderful! How sweet, how soft, how ravishing the strain! You amorous Powers, there crept upon my soul/A pleasant, dreamy, rapturous titillation.

1207:

If you’re so hot to bugger the old guy, why don’t you drill a hole in the backside of that plank and buttfuck him that way?

Tiss her, me says; me nod objex to dat (“Kiss her, me says; me not object to that” in Scythian accent)

Assemblywomen or Ecclesiazusae (1) Jeffrey Henderson (2) Jack Lindsay

249:

I’ll tell him to go squint up a dog’s butt.

I’ll simply tell him to squint up a dog’s behind.

977

Don’t despise the young girls,
for softness resides
in their tender thighs
and blossoms on their tits.

Don’t grudge the young their merriness,
Wondering in beauty each lies. . .
And delicately the plump light
Dimples her long thighs,
And flowers drink with soft rich petals
Where her breasts rise.

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