Petronius 28

Kissing is better than sex

by Petronius

This unusual poem is ascribed to Petronius, the author of the Satyricon, Rome’s great picaresque novel. He was the Emperor Nero’s “arbiter of elegance” until he fell out of favour and died by an elaborate suicide in or around 66 CE. The piece uses the same metre (hendecasyllables) that Catullus used in his romantic poetry to Lesbia. The translation follows the practice of others in treating the piece as a shared moment of tenderness. A less tender, and more selfish, rendering would, however, be equally possible. After all, what woman would want to be told that making love with her was a “foeda voluptas”? “Foedus” is a very strong word, which would normally be translated as something like “foul” or “disgusting”.

The speaker uses a lot of impersonal constructions in talking about what is good and bad about sex. Who is he speaking for? He could be making a general observation, or speaking both for himself and his lover, but he could also just be saying what he himself does and doesn’t like. That might help to explain why the girl the poem is addressed to seems barely present in it: even when the speaker uses the first-person plural “iaceamus” in the seventh line, he may be doing so with singular meaning, which would be common poetic practice, make sense with “tecum” (“with you”) and help him with the metre.

So an alternative version might go:

“I find the pleasure in sex nasty and short, and no sooner is it over than it disgusts me. So, let’s not blindly rush there straight away like rutting animals, because passion falls away and the flame dies. Instead, like this, just like this, let me lie with you, kissing, in an endless holiday. Here is no exertion, no shame: this is what I enjoy, always have, and will long into the future; something that does not disappoint and is always a fresh beginning.”

See the illustrated blog post here.

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Foeda est in coitu et brevis voluptas
et taedet Veneris statim peractae.
Non ergo ut pecudes libidinosae
caeci protinus irruamus illuc
(nam languescit amor peritque flamma);
sed sic sic sine fine feriati
et tecum iaceamus osculantes.
Hic nullus labor est ruborque nullus:
hoc iuvit, iuvat et diu iuvabit;
hoc non deficit incipitque semper.

Pleasure from intercourse is gross and short, and we feel distaste as soon as it is over. So, let’s not blindly rush there straight away like rutting animals, because passion falls away and the flame dies. Instead, like this, just like this in an endless holiday, let us lie together kissing, you and I. Here is no exertion, no shame: this has been, is, and will be a pleasure long into the future; something that does not disappoint and is always a fresh beginning.

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More Poems by Petronius

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