Seven Last Words of the Emperor Hadrian
Animula vagula blandula
hospes comesque corporis,
quae hunc abibis in loca,
pallida, rigida, nudula,
nec, ut soles, dabis iocos?
Dear soul mate, little guest
and companion, what
shift will you make
now, out there
in the cold?
If this is a joke,
it is old, old.
Soul, small wandering one,
my lifelong companion,
where will you go
— numb, pale, undefended —
now the joke we shared is ended?
mate, bedfellow, where are you off
to now? Cat got
your tongue? Lost your shirt, caught
your death? Well, the last laugh
is on you. Is on us.
Sweet urchin, fly
-by-night, heart’s guest, my
better half and solace,
you’ve really done it
this time. You’ve played one trick
too many. Fool, you’ve laughed us
both out of breath.
If this is one of your jokes,
my jack, my jack-in-the-box,
lay off. Where
have you got to?
It’s cold out there.
And what will you do
without me, you sweet idiot? Go naked?
Homeless? Come back to bed.
What’s this, old mouse, my secret
where? Did you think I’d let
you slip away without me after
a lifetime of happy scrapes? Who
warmed you, clothed you, fed you, paid with laughter
for your tricks, your japes? Is this the one
joke, poor jackanapes, dear bugaboo,
your emperor does not get?
So you’re playing fast
and loose, are you? You’ve cut
the love knot. Well let’s see how you get
on out there without me. Who’s kidding
who? Without my body, its royal
breath and blood to warm you, my hands, my tongue
to prove to you what’s real,
what’s not, poor fool, you’re nothing.
But O, without you, my sweet nothing,