This is part 1 of 3. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here.

Cum aetatis huius et peracti temporis
rationem habeo, considero haud me paucula
Paschalia edisse ova; nam rugosa fit
cutis, genaeque flaccidae, canis quoque
respersa tempora. quin et ipse filius
iam natus annos quindecim, puellulam
me pernegat. sed neque parum accelerant mihi
gravem hanc senectutem graves curae omnium
rerum domesticarum et immitis iugum
mariti, et ingens prolium curatio,
quibus locupletandis honestandisque diu
noctuque pervigilo.
(Georgius Macropedius, Rebelles 77-88a)

When I think of my age and all the time that has passed, I realize that I am no longer young. Too many times has Easter come and gone: my skin is getting wrinkled, my cheeks flabby and my hair is greying at the temples. That’s how it is and my son (who is fifteen) is the living proof that I am no longer a spring chicken. But this heavy old age of mine is aggravated by other matters as well: the care for all the household duties, the burden of a coarse man for a husband, and the huge responsibility for the future of my children. How to assure for them a rich and respectable life: that is the thought that keeps me awake at night. (tr. Yehudi Lindeman)

2 thoughts on “Puellulam”

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