Ovid, Amores 3.

5
“It was night, and my weary eyes were steeped in slumber;
a vision came which terrified my mind.
Beneath a sunny hill was a dense stand of oak trees;
the branches sheltered scores of silent birds.
5 Further below, a grassy meadow, brilliant green,
watered in drops by inching rivulets.
I was there. Under a tree I tried to escape the heat—
still it was hot, under a leafy tree.
Seeking meadow-grass amid the mosaic of flowers
10 a pure white cow appeared before my eyes.
Whiter than snow new-fallen, before time has turned
the drifting powder to a running stream;
whiter than ewe’s milk in the milking-pail, so fresh
you still can see the foam, and hear the splash.
15 With this cow was a bull, her contented mate. The pair
rested their bodies on the springy ground.
And as this bull lay on the grass, so calmly and quietly
chewing his regurgitated cud,
sleep seemed to steal away his strength; his neck relaxed,
20 his massive head sank down into a drowse.
A crow appeared, angling down through the breezes on light wings
to settle, chattering, on the grassy ground.
Three times the crow thrust its rough beak in the cow’s white breast
and pulled from it a tuft of snowy hair.
25 She who had stayed so long left the place and her mate,
 2

a dark blood-bruise disfiguring her breast.

And when she saw, far off, bulls grazing the greensward
(bulls were grazing on tasty grass, far off)
she went towards them, to join them and mingle with their herd;
30 she sought out a more fertile pasturage.
Interpreter of night-imaginings, whoever you are, tell me:
is there truth or meaning in this dream?”
These were my words and my question. The dream-interpreter
weighed each point within his mind, and spoke:
35 “The heat which you sought to escape beneath the tree’s shifting leaves
but could not truly escape, that was the heat
of love. The cow is your girl—the color is right for her.
You were the bull, companion to the cow.
The crow which pecked at her breast with its pointed beak was a bawd:
40 an aged hag will sway your lady’s mind.
Since the cow, who had stayed so long, abandoned the bull in the end,
you will be left alone, cold in an empty bed.
The bruise on the front of the cow’s breast, the blood-dark smirch
is the stain, in your girl’s heart, of adultery.”
45 The interpreter had spoken. The blood drained from my face, my skin
went cold, and deepest darkness filled my eyes.

Translated by Diane Arnson Svarlien

First published in in D. Rayor and W. Batstone, edd., Latin Lyric and Elegiac
Poetry (Garland Press, 1995), repr. Routledge. Expanded second edition
forthcoming from Routledge.