See, the problem is that Boethius must be the most boring, sententious poet out there. I understand that as a metrical innovator he is quite spectacular and a great deal is lost in the transmission from Latin to Anglo-Saxon and then into my own modern English. But thematically the Metres are a concatenation on one tiresome note. There is precious little of the dynamic tension (now we are in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I guess) I am accustomed to seeing the narrative poems, a dazzling vitality that I have felt equal to reproducing in my translations. Nope, the Metres is just a frog-march, and my own lyrical inadequacies make the process even more painful to endure. So I am giving it up for the time being. Maybe I will come back to it later. Who knows?
So, I think I should get back into the few remaining narrative poems. That would be just Daniel and the latter two parts of Christ. Perhaps I will start them soon. I have been missing the process and pleasures of translation a great deal.
