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Informationen zum Autor Ovid (43 BC-AD 17) was born in central Italy. He was sent to Rome where he realised that his talent lay with poetry rather than with politics. His first published work was 'Amores', a collection of short love poems. He was expelled in A.D. 8 by Emperor Augustus for an unknown reason and went to Tomis on the Black Sea, where he died. Klappentext This collection of Ovid's poems deals with the whole spectrum of sexual desire, ranging from deeply emotional declarations of eternal devotion to flippant arguments for promiscuity. In the Amores, Ovid addresses himself in a series of elegies to Corinna, his beautiful, elusive mistress. The intimate and vulnerable nature of the poet revealed in these early poems vanishes in the notorious Art of Love, in which he provides a knowing and witty guide to sexual conquest - a work whose alleged obscenity led to Ovid's banishment from Rome in AD 8. This volume also includes the "Cures for Love," with instructions on how to terminate a love affair, and "On Facial Treatment for Ladies," an incomplete poem on the art of cosmetics. For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators. The Art of Love Book 1 Should anyone here in Rome lack finesse at love-making, let him Try me—read my book; and results are guaranteed! Technique is the secret. Charioteer, sailor, oarsman, All need it. Technique can control Love himself. As Automedon was charioteer to Achilles, And Tiphys Jason's steersman, so I, By Venus' appointment, am made Love's artificer, shall be Known as The Tiphys, the very Automedon of Love. He's a wild handful, will often rebel against me, But still just a child— Malleable, easily disciplined. Chiron made young Achilles A fine musician, hammered that fierce heart On the anvil of peaceful artistry. So this future terror To friend and foe alike went in awe, it's said, Of his elderly teacher, at whose bidding the hand that in after- Time bore down Hector was held out for the tawse. As Chiron taught Achilles, so I am Love's preceptor: Wild boys both, both goddess-born—and yet Even bulls can be broken to plough, or spirited horses Subdued with bridle and bit. So love shall likewise own my mastery, though his bowshots Skewer my breast, though his torch Flicker and sear me. The worse the wounds, the deeper the branding, That much keener I to avenge Such outrage. Nor shall I falsely ascribe my arts to Apollo: No airy bird comes twittering advice Into my eat, I never had a vision of the Muses Herding sheep in Ascra's valleys. This work is based On experience: what I write, believe me, I have practiced. My poem will deal in truth. Aid my enterprise, Venus! Respectable ladies, the kind who Wear hairbands and ankle-length skirts, Are hereby warned off. Safe love, legitimate liaisons Will be my theme. This poem breaks no taboos. First, then, you fledging troopers in passion's service, Comes the task of finding an object for your love. Next, you must labour to woo and win your lady; Thirdly, ensure that the affair will last. Such are my limitations, such the ground I will cover, The race I propose to run. While you are fancy-free still, and can drive at leisure, Pick a girl, tell her, "you're the one I love. And only you.' But this search means using your eyes: a mistress Won't drop out of the sky at your fe...
