Michiel Sauter

Latijnse gedichten door Michiel Sauter (1964)

Salax taberna

Cur cauponis olet salax taberna?
Tenax iste negat lavare caudam;
manus mane lavat bis in matella
deinde tergit eas ter in capillis
ovo calvior est et iste caupo.
Num miraris eo magis rogasque
quare fetida sit taberna putra?

In: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by Mark Walker, 10 (2014) en in: The Vates Anthology of New Latin Poetry, Edited by Mark Walker, 2015.

Filthy pub (hendekasyllabus inspired by Catullus’ poem 37)

Why does the publican’s filthy pub stink?
Tenaciously he refuses to wash his penis;
in the morning he washes his hands in the chamber pot twice
then he wipes them in his hair three times
that publican is even balder than an egg.
Do you really wonder and all the more ask
why his dirty pub is stinking?

Venustas et vetustas

Quid clamitabas? Te putasne delectam
ob indolem vel magnitudinem solum?
O gratulemur! O puella versuta!
Apparuisti seminuda patrono
nam vix papillas vix natesque velasti.
Tu foeda non es, caecus ille nequaquam;
Di, num est vetustas fortior venustate?

In: Vates. The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by Mark Walker, 11, 2015 en in: The Vates Anthology of New Latin Poetry, Edited by Mark Walker, 2015.

Beauty and old age (choliambus)

Why were you shouting out loud? Do you think you have been chosen
just because of your talent or your brightness?
Oh congratulations! Oh cunning girl!
You showed up half-naked before your employer,
hardly hiding your breasts and buttocks.
You are not ugly, he is by no means blind.
Oh Gods, old age is not stronger than beauty, is it?

(True story: a bright young woman went scantily clad to a job interview. She got the job and proudly posted pictures online of herself with her new, yet slightly older employer).

Forum cattorum
(Largo di Torre Argentina, Romae)

Dictator, iactator,
Gallorum vexator
hic animam Caesar efflavit;
sed quis eum fleret
quis adhuc lugeret
quem Brutus ignave necavit?

Flagrabat Urbs bello
haud procul sacello;
hic sole nunc feles fruuntur,
nihil facientes
calore gaudentes
de Caesare numquam loquuntur.

Sint nobis exemplo
hae feles in templo
aeterna sint felibus fana,
ne quies cattorum
destituat forum
quo viguit vix pax humana.

In: Vox Latina, Tomus 56, Fasciculus 220, 2020.

Cat Forum
(Largo di Torre Argentina, Rome; amphibrachys)

Dictator, loudmouth
vexation of the Gauls
Caesar here breathed his last;
but who would weep for him
who would still mourn him
whom Brutus cowardly killed?

Rome was burning then during the war
not far from the sanctuary;
here and now cats enjoy the sun:
doing nothing
rejoicing in the heat
they never speak of Caesar.

May the cats in the temple there
be an example to us,
may the cats have their eternal temples,
lest the quiet of the cats
desert the forum
where scarcely flourished any human peace.

(The Largo di Torre Argentina in central Rome, an ancient forum where Julius Caesar was probably killed, is now a stray cat colony).

Sine mora amor
(Basium interdictum, secundum Janum Secundum)

“Amasne me?” rogasti.
Putasne me negare?
Tuos amo capillos,
hos paetulos ocellos
genasque quippe nasum
ac semper haec labella
haec colla mollicella.
Tuos amo lacertos
alasque saepe tangens
necnon tuas papillas
planissimumve ventrem;
admiror umbilicum
femur femurque pulchrum.
Ne cunnulum canamus
quem lingua nostra vellet
ad astra ferre nunciam
nisi statim vetarent
di castimoniarum.
Armos natesque canto
pedesque crura laudo
et corporis leporem:
nil non amore dignumst,
(nec indolem revelo
qua Gorgones fugantur;
sed corporaliter nunc...)
te diligo reapse!

In: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by David Money, 16, 2026.

How I wish I could give the explicit translation of my poem, ‘if not at once the gods of chastity forbade’ to quote the few decent lines from this rather carnal catalogue. However, I took the liberty to borrow many a word from my compatriots Janus Secundus (Basium VIII) and Janus Dousa (Ad Idam). Hence, I suggest the eager reader find a clue in the translations of these two poems. Needless to say, I copied their metre as well. Another source of inspiration was Vergil, whose opening line of the Aeneid (Arma virumque cano...) I gladly parodied: ‘Armos natesque canto: Of shoulders and buttocks I sing.’

Unconditional love
(A forbidden kiss, after Janus Secundus, ïambus dimetrus catalecticus)

‘Do you love me?’ you asked.
Do you think I would deny?
I love your hair,
those squinting eyes,
your cheeks, obviously, and nose
and at all times these lips
this tender neck.
I love your arms
often touching the armpits
and your breasts
your extremely flat belly;
I admire your belly button
your nice thigh and your nice thigh.
Let’s rather not sing about your lap
that our language would
praise to the stars
if not at once
the gods of chastity forbade.
Of shoulders and buttocks I sing
your feet and legs I praise
and the charm of your body;
nothing is unworthy of my love,
(however, I do not reveal your character
by which even the Gorgons are chased away
but physically, right now...)
I love you indeed!

In his opus magnum The Autumn of the Middle Ages (1919), Johan Huizinga quotes the medieval poem Cur mundus militat sub vana gloria as an example of the Ubi sunt-topic, the mourning for the people who are no longer among us. This Ubi sunt-topic is inextricably linked with the medieval concept of vanitas: everything is bound to perish, nothing remains. After the Middle Ages, vanitas reoccurred, not least in baroque literature. In his Ode Ad Petrum Altenhofium, the German Jesuit Jacob Balde derides the pomp of monumental graves as pure vanity. From Huizinga’s quotation and from Balde, I borrowed a few words to write my own vanitas sonnet.

Carpe mortem
(magistri testamentum)

‘Viator stupe, sta ad sedes mortuorum
hic iacent nobiles, hic splendent gloriae
et urnas habeant porro reliquiae
quiescant proceres in tumulis maiorum.’

Ubi Diogenes, deridens hoc decorum?
Hic foetent nomina, vanae fallaciae
nunc esca vermium, tunc patres patriae
putrescunt principes in luto sepulchrorum.

O mundi vanitas! Sperno luxuriam
sub gravi lapide non bene dormiam
cadaver meum da chirurgi studiosis:
docebo mortuus quod vivus nequeo
disiecta membra post spargas in hortulo
et fiam prandium pro cattis, rattis, rosis.

In: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by David Money, 16, 2026.

Seize death
(a teacher’s last will) (alexandrinus ïambicus)

‘Traveler, be astonished, stand at the seats of the dead
here lie the nobles, here glories shine
and let the remains have urns
and let the nobles rest in the tombs of their ancestors.’

Where is Diogenes, mocking this decorum?
Here names stink, vain fallacies
now food for worms, then fathers of the country
princes rot in the mud of tombs.

Oh, the vanity of the world! I despise luxury
under a heavy stone I will not sleep well
give my corpse to the surgeon’s students:
and being dead I will teach what I cannot teach alive
afterwards scatter my severed limbs in the garden
and I will become a meal for cats, rats, and roses.

De mappa et vappa

Urbanum esse putas et eruditum
quod monstrare libens velis aperte
namque emungere te soles acute
personans epulas, fugans amicos
ac mucum mihi linteo relinquis;
immo, taeter, amore linteorum
culum tergere vis tuum, cacator!

In: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry,
Edited by David Money, 15, 2025.

The napkin and the parasite (hendekasyllabus)

You think you are so civilised
which you are eager to show off
because you always blow your nose loudly
ruining the dinner party, chasing away my friends
and leaving your snot in my napkin;
even worse, admiring my napkins,
you want to use them to wipe your ass, you awful shithead!

Venus im Pelz (Venus in pelle)

Illa mi par esse deae videtur,
illa, si fas est, superare divas,
quae sedens adversus identidem me
spernit et urget.

Sedulus servus dominam saluto:
“Salva sis regina, venusta diva,
impera quaeso mihi ne ministrum
unguibus instes!

Prandium poscis laceras simul me,
postulas cenam monitu minanti,
verberas tamquam famulum fidelem
femina pulchra.

Otium raro puero tuo das:
mane me punis agitasque nocte,
otium favet tibi sempiternum
me vigilante.

Neglegens in me modo dira dormis,
falsa blandiris modo servulo, te
diligo domnam vereorque dum sis
optima feles!”

In: Latinitas VIIII, volumen alterum, 2021

Venus in Furs
(stropha sapphica inspired by Catullus’ poem 51)

She seems to me to be equal to a goddess,
she, if it is permissible, seems to surpass the goddesses,
who sitting opposite again and again
despises and threatens me.

Being a diligent servant I salute my mistress:
“Hail, my graceful divine queen,
command me please, lest you pursue your attendant
with your nails.

You demand your lunch, you cut me at the same time,
you require dinner with a menacing warning,
you strike your loyal slave just like
a beautiful woman does.

You rarely give your boy spare time:
in the morning you punish me and in the night you wake me up,
everlasting spare time favors you
while I remain awake.

Neglecting me sometimes you sleep direly,
sometimes you deceivingly flatter your little slave, I
love you mistress and I fear you as long as you are
my best cat!”

Cave canem

Cottidiano tempore ianuam
clausam recensens scilicet impiger
utor quoad plerumque pulchra
femina vult reserare portam.

Superba longis cruribus advenit,
amans amari sed modo neglegens
mei requirentis puellam
tangit humum resonante planta.

Mirante quovis sola nec ambulat,
semper videtur rufula cum cane
nigro atque magno; quique latrans
me melius monet ad tuendum.

Caudam moverem si dominae canis
fidelis essem sub pedibus situs,
quos lamberem, stertens iacerem,
ore pio iuvenes fugarem.

Lili’s bark (stropha alcaica)

Ich küss’ ihre Schuhe, kau’ an den Sohlen...
(Goethe: Lilis Park)

I spend my time sitting while I am fixating
a door on the opposite side of the street
I wait till it’s opened to know I’ve been waiting
to look at the lady that I’d like to meet.

chorus: She’s a long legged lady who likes to look lovely,
she’s as proud as the prettiest princess can be
and when I hear her heavenly high heels I hurry
’cause she likes to be looked at but won’t look at me.

This girl, who’s got long red hair, doesn’t feel lonely
although there is no one with whom she can talk
she lives on her own with her big black dog only
that warns me through barking when they take a walk.

chorus

If I were her dog I would wag my tail daily
I’d lie at her beautiful feet and I’d snore
I’d lick her long legs and I’d gnaw her heels gaily
but I’d bite every man who would knock on her door.

chorus

Habent sua fata libelli

Ante inventionem artis typograficae pretiosissimi erant libri. In scriptoriis scribae non modo manu scribebant codices, verum etiam imaginibus ornabant et post nonnullos annos perficiebant. Qua de causa saepe addebant in colophone maledictiones, ne quis inquinaret, surriperet, deleret exemplaria unica.

Eorum librorum lectoribus scribae minabantur excommunicationem, anathema et damnationem ad calamitates avertendas. Quamvis hae minae -quasi praecursores iuris auctorum hodierni- plurimos lectores a malo deterrerent, non semper damna vitare poterant. Non legunt enim animalia.

Praesertim mures vellera codicum devorabant et pagellis rosis nihil relinquebant nisi pulverem. Bibliothecariis feles auxilio veniebant, quippe qui die et nocte optimi praedatores sunt. Feles autem neque legunt, neque bibliophili esse videntur, ut animadvertit quidam scriba Conradus Scheych de Grunenberg terrore affectus Daventriae (Deventer, Nederlandia). Anno 1418° in libro suo questus est de maculis, quas feles in pagella libri reliquit:
“Hic non defectus est, sed cattus minxit desuper nocte quadam. Confundatur pessimus cattus qui minxit super librum istum in nocte Daventrie, et consimiliter omnes alii propter illum, et cavendum valde ne permittantur libri aperti per noctem ubi catti venire possunt.”
Delineavit etiam maniculas indicantes verba sua nec non animal mirum, asino non dissimile, felem simulans. In hoc libro Conradus scripsit De decem praeceptis, ignarus se praeceptum undecimum addidisse: sit nobis ergo etiam diebus hodiernis praemonito ne permittantur computatra aperta per noctem ubi catti venire possunt.

Me ad carmen scribendum instigaverunt et cattus et Conradus. Usus sum scribae temporis metro goliardico, orthographia (nichil, michi) et grammatica (praecipue in ultima linea):

De scriba et fele

Nuper amicitiam
falsa feles finxit,
mentem meam blandula
malo modo vinxit
sed atratis pedibus
librum meum tinxit
et nefanda quadrupes
super librum minxit.

Inquinavit furcifer
illud ornamentum:
partim pulchris paginis
deest atramentum,
partim nichil superest
nisi purgamentum;
sic reliquit animal
doli documentum.

Liber meus optimus
omnium librorum
sordidus et minctus est:
mixtio liquorum;
non iam michi cordi sit
caritas cattorum:
infelicitatis fons,
copia malorum.

Ubivis micturiens
iste cattus catus
fateatur scelera
erga magistratus,
neque neget proditor
crimen obstinatus
statim a Pontifice
sit exorcizatus!

In: Melissa 221, 2021 and in: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by Mark Walker, 14 (2018).

As some medieval manuscripts document, cats sometimes deemed it necessary to stain books with their inky paws or even worse by urinating on them. This poem is about a medieval scribe who befriended a cat only to discover the disastrous effects of his feline friendship. Accordingly, I used post-classical metre, orthography and grammar (last line).

The Scribe and the Cat (versus Goliardicus, trochaeus)

Recently a fraudulent cat pretended to be my friend
and in a charming manner captivated my mind
but with inked paws he stained my manuscript
and the horrible quadruped urinated on the book.

The villain polluted that ornament:
partly, on some beautiful pages there is no ink left
partly, there is nothing left but rubbish
thus, the animal left an example of his trickery.

My best book of all books,
is sordid and urinated on: a mixture of liquids;
may the love for cats no longer be in my heart:
the source of unhappiness, a lot of misery.

That shrewd cat that wants to urinate everywhere
should confess his crimes before the magistrates
and lest the obstinate traitor deny the crime
he should immediately be exorcized by the Pope!

Memento mergi
(nautae testamentum)

Si forte me vult provocare Neptunus
marique vasto navigo sinu pleno
Fortuna semper sublevet senem canum
quocumque vado protegat vagabundum.
Sed si mari me poscit inferus Pluto
da corpus undis, caerimoniae parce
ut in profundo mergar atque vanescam
et devoret me mitis orca, non Orcus!

In: Latinitas XI, volumen prius, 2023

Remember you must sink (choliambus)
(A sailor’s last will)

If Neptune by any chance wants to call me
and I sail the sea with full sails
may fate always favor this gray old man
wherever I go may it protect this vagabond.
But when at sea the underworld Pluto calls me
give my body to the waves, spare me every ceremony
that I may sink into the depths and perish
and may a friendly orca devour me, not the Orcus!

Diabolus me tenet

Diabolus me tenet vinculis
at tamen omnes fero cruciatus;
me mulcet miserum blanditiis.

Ac semper suis vincit vitiis
cum sim mea virtute violatus;
Diabolus me tenet vinculis.

Etsi non tantae magnitudinis
subigit iste daemon apparatus;
me mulcet miserum blanditiis.

Quandoque me castigat stimulis,
resurgo quamvis grave vulneratus;
Diabolus me tenet vinculis.

Rarissime videtur nobilis,
amabilis, divinus et stellatus;
me mulcet miserum blanditiis.

Sic patiens exsulto gaudiis
dum fascinet me cattus iste gratus:
Diabolus me tenet vinculis
me mulcet miserum blanditiis!

In: Vox Latina, Tomus 61, Fasciculus 240, 2025 and in: Vates: The Journal of New Latin Poetry, Edited by David Money, 15, August 2025.

The devil holds me (villanelle in accentual iambic pentameter)

The devil holds me in chains
but yet I bear all the tortures;
he soothes me, a wretch, with his flattery.

And always conquers with his vices
when I am violated by my own virtue;
The devil holds me in chains.

Although not of such great magnitude
this charming demon subdues me;
he soothes me, a wretch, with his flattery.

Whenever he chastises me with goads,
I rise again, although gravely wounded;
The devil holds me in chains.

He very rarely appears noble,
lovable, divine and starlike;
he soothes me, a wretch, with his flattery.

Thus patiently I exult with joy
As long as this lovely cat fascinates me:
The devil holds me in chains
he soothes me, a wretch, with his flattery!