Reception Radio: Vivamus, by Farya Faraji

An imaginary idyll in Catullus' Rome

It’s almost impossible to study ancient Rome without reading a little Catullus. He’s a mainstay in beginner Latin classes and undergrad history seminars, and with good reason. Catullus’s poetry dates back to the late Roman republic, and covers topics that are still relatable today, such as love, frustration, longing, and relationship struggles of all stripes.

It’s no surprise, then, that later artists are drawn to Catullus, and want to remix his words in interesting ways. Today’s Reception Radio entry sets one of his poems, commonly known as Catullus 5, to music. It’s arranged and performed by Farya Faraji, a Montreal-based singer, musician, and composer. He creates tracks inspired by world history, mostly engaging with the Mediterranean and western Asia in ancient through Medieval times. In Vivamus, he travels back to the late Roman republic.

Faraji’s music ranges in terms of attempted accuracy: sometimes he aims to sound like he’s from ancient history and only uses period-accurate instruments, sometimes he takes more liberties and goes for a “movie soundtrack” feel. Vivamus sits on the accuracy side of the spectrum, accompanying Catullus’ poem on Roman instruments and singing it with a historically-informed Latin pronunciation. Listen for the way Faraji pronounces his Vs as Ws, like the Romans did!

Some of Catullus’ poetry is delightfully lewd and catty. The infamous Catullus 16 is so crude that a full English translation wasn’t published until the 20th century! The text for Vivamus is one of his gentler, sweeter works: in fact, I think Catullus 5 is one of the most romantic poems in history. Faraji’s music coveys this gentleness even if you can’t understand the Latin lyrics, with its soft lyre and lilting rhythm.

It’s worth mentioning that Catullus 5 is one of the so-called “Lesbia poems,” written about an unnamed lover. Her identity has been speculated for centuries, although many historians (myself included) believe she was Clodia Metelli, a wealthy and somewhat scandal-prone Roman noblewoman. Judging by the Lesbia poems, her relationship with Catullus was quite stormy, with plenty of highs and lows. I’d love to see Farya Faraji tackle some of the angrier poems, but I also enjoy this soft, romantic entry into his catalogue of historical songs.

Here is the Latin text of Catullus 5, with an English translation by classicist Peter Green. I encourage you to look up other versions on your own time. There are many, many different translations of Catullus’ poems out there: some try and stay faithful to the original Latin, while others take a looser, freer approach. All reveal something about the translator’s identity, time, and place, as well as helping us access and enjoy Roman poetry!

Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis!
soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,
conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

Let’s live, Lesbia mine, and love — and as for

scandal, all the gossip, old man’s strictures,

value the lot at no more than a farthing!

Suns can rise and set ad infinitum

for us, though, once our brief life’s quenched, there’s only

one unending night that’s left to sleep through.

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,

then a thousand more, a second hundred —

then when we’ve notched up all these many thousands,

shuffle the figures, lose count of the total,

so no maleficent enemy can hex us

knowing the final sum of all our kisses.