Hadrian’s Man

When I came with my Emperor
I was a favoured centurion
We bought our own civilised habits
A love of the Greeks and their ways
Songs of the south coast
Music to stir the heart

But now our divine Emperor is dead
Gone to the high places
To sit with Jupiter who always blessed him
With glorious victories

Now the tribes from Hispania
Are not so much in favour here
And the cold north holds no attraction for me
I grow too old for love in the Greek way
Would rather take a soft woman to my pallet

My bones ache in the north winds
I dream of returning once more to Hispania
Here the stubborn winter lies on earth as
A dry milk cow
No sweetness flows from her udder
There is no grace in this sour land

If I walk about the town
They look at us with hate
Buds die stillborn on the branch
Killed by bitter frosts
I think of my old father
Tending his vines

At this time of year
The first buds full of promise
Swell like the breasts of young maidens
I have yet to deflower

In Hispania
The walnut trees are in bloom
Their whiteness fills the valley like snow
And the wild pig roots among them

Here there is only the snow
Lying in the creases of the wall
A dry suckling of earth

In my village I would prepare a feast
For my dead father
I dream of chestnuts and vintage wine
Pheasant      young hare      sweet figs
With rosemary milk-fed snails

As I march along the Wall
A windblown sky receives my tears
I am fulfilling my promise
To the Dead.