A Happy Lark

Erin Cummins
We think that we shall never see
Creatures lovely as are we,
Birds, warm or cool in cloaks of feather,
Who bask in fair and fowl weather,
Who, while the sun doth hotly glitter,
In flowery folds do squawk and twitter,
Belting a tune divinely sweet,
Perched up in the catbird seat!
In hollow caves, in wintry air,
With mountain nymphs, without a care.
White virgin berries on the bark,
Spring, Graces gardensa happy lark!

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The poem above is simply a happy lark, a light and frothy attempt at a translation of lines 1088-1101 of
Aristophanes Birds. I tried to include some classic Aristophanic stylistics while still maintaining the tone
of joyous celebration I read in the original. My particular delight was in word play. Thus my use of
(literally!) feathery language, like perched up in the catbird seat and fowl weather are meant to reflect
the bird words and puns the Greek poet uses throughout the original play. Aristophanes, so skilled in
linguistic tricks, enjoyed a good parody (especially of Euripides). My choice to model my translation
from Joyce Kilmers Trees echoes that idea of loving imitation. Hopefully Mr. Kilmers memory will not
be too stained by this bird-brained scheme of mine; if one is inclined to be offended by a desultory
approximation of artjust bear in mind that where birds are concerned,
Poems are made by fools like me,
Wellme and Aristophanes.