"276:
Uninspired but sentimental
Over one sadness or another
As a subject for his poems,
The voluble poet whets his stylus."
I'm always impressed whenever I observe what appears to be a seemingly modern nuance infiltrating the poetry of Archilochus--how readily his snippets and fragments give themselves over to contemporary translation, how his aches, pains, gripes, insults, humor, and generally capricious demeanor so easily call to mind those tumultuous, vivacious, and altogether messy personalities common to the zeitgeist of the last century, how he, an ancient with the likes of Homer and Sappho, somehow manages to eliminate the gaps of time in scant few lines of charged emotion.
Everytime I read Archilochus, I can't help but imagine grabbing a drink with him. He, along with Sei Shonagon and Catullus himself, is just one of those historical figures who cannot help but remind us that humans have always been...well, human.
He was a fleeing soldier, a knower of prostitutes, a son of Ares, a dog of War, a student of the Muses, a lover of the Arts, a defender of himself, a lover of the land, a man who left his shield behind but never let go his sword or his sharp wit, an absolute wino...in many ways, I find him an existence at the crossroads of Homer and Sappho. His work is as Aphrodite descending with a sword, or it is the great black ships of the Achaeans being manned and led by the most perfumed women of Greece.
The book is a quick read, but worthy. A must read for anyone into the classics.