Archilochus of Paros Quotes

No man, Aisimides, who bows to the mud-slinging
mob has ever been capable of profound pleasures.

My javelin is good white bread and Ismarian wine.
When I find rest on my javelin I drink wine.

Soul, my soul, don't let them break you, all these troubles. Never yield: though their force is overwhelming, up! attack them shield to shield...

"Old women should not seek to be perfumed" (Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, first ebook edition, 2014)

I don't like a general
who towers over the troops,
lordly with elegant locks
and trim mustachios.
Give me a stumpy soldier
glaringly bowlegged,
yet rockfirm on his feet,
and in his heart a giant.

Well, what if some barbaric Thracian glories
in the perfect shield I left under a bush?
I was sorry to leave it — but I saved my skin.
Does it matter? O hell, I'll buy a better one.

Now, I have no desire for poetry or joy,
yet I will make nothing better by crying,
nor worse by seeking good foods and pleasure.

Let who will boast their courage in the field,
I find but little safety from my shield.
Nature's, not honour's, law we must obey:
This made me cast my useless shield away,
And by a prudent flight and cunning save
A life, which valour could not, from the grave.
A better buckler I can soon regain;
But who can get another life again?

His penis is swollen
like a donkey from Priene
taking his fill of barley.

I have saved myself - what care I for that shield? Away with it! I'll get another one no worse.

Some Saian mountaineer
Struts today with my shield.
I threw it down by a bush and ran
When the fighting got hot.
Life seemed somehow more precious.
It was a beautiful shield.
I know where I can buy another
Exactly like it, just as round.

All, O all the calamities of all the Hellenes
are set loose on this battleground in Thasos.

Her sprig of myrtle clothed her beautiful rose
That her hands were happily playing with,
And her hair fell
As darkness on her back and shoulders.
Someone
Right in the middle of the myrtle.

Look, Glaukos, how heavy seawaves leap skyward!
Over the Gyrai rocks hangs a black cloud,
a signal of winter storm.
From the unforseen comes fear.

Мужньо на ворога йди, що на рідне напав твоє місто,
Страху не май, не тремти — смерть же одна для усіх.
А з поля бою коли побіжиш — затремтять тоді й інші,
Бог і в погибельну мить успіх не раз подає!
Ну а коли ти — один, коли військо усе полягло вже,
Бій коли програний вже, і помогти анічим
Ти вже вітчизні не можеш, то що тоді щит для вітчизни?
Кинь його — воїна ти, сина для неї зберіг!..
Скаже негідник, що ти — боягуз? І нехай! А ти — знаєш,
Що за родимий свій край сміло життя покладеш!
Будеш боятись, що хтось там тебе назве боягузом — То небагато утіх матимеш, друже, в житті!