GAY TRANSLATIONESE 

THYRSIS
NARCISSUS
CIRCE
AMARYLLIS
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THYRSIS

“If he takes the she-goat, 
the kid shall be yours.”
—translated by Robert Wells
Theocritus, Idyll 1
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Pan chooses the horny guy—
then he does the she-goat

That leaves the goatherd—
the kid as my prize

Nothing tastes so delicious—
as a cute unmilked kid
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NARCISSUS

“What can the water be, 
other than itself?”
—Robert Wells
The Pool
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What else can the pool be—
but a mirror for your male beauty?

The thought that’s it’s all there—
gathered together just for you
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Each svelte curve of you shoulders—
moist in the hollow of the pool

Your narrow face half-asleep—
douching yourself in the morning
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How I’ve imagined you turning in sleep—
in some dark dream taking hold of you

Now your image bears you down further—
its weight a wish disguised, a knowledge 
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Not to be kept by the living—
what remains is what’s unpossessible

Servitude's counterpart a hidden beauty—
ghosting your gestures, bringing you down 
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To learn its own existence through you—
your weightless image in the water 

A different pose as the water chokes you—
drowning you with its cold vibrancy
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CIRCE
  
“drugs as strong as
any brewed by Circe”
—translated by Robert Wells
Theocritus, Idyll 2
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Give me some dope, Circe—
something to charm him with

Something to work a spell on him—
to bind him to me as my Lover
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Twelve inches will surely satisfy—
my lonely, throbbing Clitoris!!!

A circlet of fine kinky pubes—
a virile manly macho Mustache
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Bless my fine fellatio Lips!!!
so that I can finally know him!!!

May his young Manhood truly be—
Head Swine Odysseus himself!!!
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Leader of his Crass Crew of—
unforgivably Porky Pig Swine!!!

Let them hurt me bad where it counts—
my swollen, bruised, needy Pussy!!!
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Bind them with Moon and Magic—
Cum-bathed Hecatê, my Earthly Double

Going down on the whole wrestling-school—
of Timagetus, all his young muscle-boys
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Listen to my song, I'll chant it low—
I’ll even raise Dead Dicks from the Grave!!!

Make my drink as strong as any brewed—
by Circe, Medea or yellow-haired Perimedê…
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AMARYLLIS

“Now I know Love 
as he is, an angry god”
—translated by Robert Wells
Theocritus, Idyll 3
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Like Amaryllis I was bleeding—
bleeding for love, my dears

That’s after I met young Alteo—
and fell for him head over heels
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But Alteo was only interested—
in girls, just girls, dontchaknow

“Only the girl who can bring me—
 a new flower will receive my love.”
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Naturally, I despaired and turned to—
the Oracle at Delphi for some advice

There I was told to take an arrow—
from the temple & turn it into a poem
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And to wound myself writing it—
publishing it and declaring my love

If necessary I should repeat this action—
every subsequent evening I got stoned
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I did what the oracle told me to do—
stabbing my breast & heart for the Muse

Suddenly poetry began streaming out of me—
the Gay Muse cumming like a jizz-jet!!!
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What became of my Amaryllis love?—
it became gay translationese at a glance

Like a bee flitting thru a drawn curtain—
out of a cave of dark ivy & maidenhair fern
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O pity my restless heart! Look how I opine!—
now I know Love as he is, an angry god

Making me go down on him all the time—
wooing him & wagging my faggy tongue...