Love
Book XII, 145
Translated by W. R. Paton (1916–18) · From The Greek Anthology (Loeb, vol. IV, 1918)
Rest, ye lovers of lads, from your empty labour ; cease from your troubles, ye perverse men; we are maddened by never fulfilled hopes. It is like to baling the sea on to the dry land and reckoning the number of grains in the Libyan sand to court the love of boys, whose vainglorious beauty is sweet to men and gods alike. Look on me, all of you; for all my futile toil of the past is as water shed on the dry beach.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Anonymous (Greek Anthology). “Book XII, 145.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/anonymous-greek-anthology/793/.
Chicago
Anonymous (Greek Anthology). “Book XII, 145.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/anonymous-greek-anthology/793/.
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