The Innkeeper’s Love Song

O you paragon of glory and grace, listen to the call of Papos and his cry! He is bellowing like a bull, braying at you like a donkey, for you are his cow and his she-ass. His heart is already parched like grain, he and his passion are impaled on love’s spit like a roast.

Look through your lattice, gazelle, and observe his sorry figure: his face has…

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While the translation is formatted as prose, the original is a poem of sixteen lines.

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