P. Sufenas Virius Lupus
For those who are drunk on love,
what matter is it how she,
who is splendor and beauty, was born
From sea’s swell and severed sex
of Heaven itself, of titanic Time,
or of the all-seeing Thunderer
Who can number her children
born from gods and mortals,
hideous and heavenly alike
Who can count her descendants
among the peoples of Rome,
both emperors and earth-diggers
Is it even possible for humans
to know where she will place her hand
of grace, upon whom, and when, and why
As an unanswered question is love —
but surely there is more to it than this,
and will we always be left asking for more
Happy is he who knows love,
who has tasted the mystery from her lips,
and yet why does he weep so
Her temple is here, on Roman ground,
founded by Hadrian, but — now broken —
does she roam searching for a new abode
Undefeated goddess, victorious mother,
purifier, changer of hearts,
friendly, golden, armed, heavenly ….
Will you make your home with me?
Will I find satisfaction in you?
Or will your mystery only give further questions?