My friend, Ausonius, sent a small book
to me, and asks that I should take a look
at it. The poems speak of a certain Bissula,
an adolescent slave from Swabia---
a prisoner captured as the spoils of war.
Because of old prudes' social inhibition,
the slave's identity received revision;
a slender frame, in form quite masculine,
but nuanced, rather, to the feminine;
but not for lust's insistent expectation
to make him a mere tool of fornication,
does not obtain; nor does adultery.
In love, Ausonius makes poetry.
that says his beauty is intense; but more
is Bissula's inate ability
to learn the Latin language rapidly.
The Latin poems that Bissula recites
shortens days' tasks, and lengthens joys of nights.
Starward