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Two young bachelors lodging at a doctor’s house
were working there with ardor
to put themselves in a position to take their licences.
There, from morning till night, in public disputing,
proving, dividing, quibbling
on nature and its substances,
the infinite, the finite, the soul, the will,
the senses, free will and necessity,
they were soon at the point of no longer understanding each other:
indeed, it is often said that this is how they began,
but it is then that they pushed
the finest arguments; whoever came to hear them
remained open-mouthed,
and even their professor in ecstasy admired.
One night when they were sleeping in the master’s attic
on a common pallet, behold my young men
who, in a dream, think they are
disputing on the benches.
I demonstrate, says one. I distinguish, says the other.
Now, here is my dilemma. Ergo, here is ours…
at these words, our dreamers, shouting, gesticulating,
instead of sticking to the simple arguments
of Aristotle or Scot, support their dilemma
with well-aimed punches
on the nose.
Both leap from the bed in an extreme rage,
grab each other by the hair,
fall, and make fall pell-mell with them
all the furniture they have, two chairs, a table,
and four folios written on parchment.
The professor arrives, a candle in hand,
at this frightful din:
the devil must be here! He says, beside himself:
what! Without seeing clearly and without knowing why,
you fight like this! What fly has bitten you?
We are not fighting, they say; judge better:
it is that we are both reviewing
our metaphysics lessons.
Florian
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/fable-the-two-bachelors-jean-pierre-claris-de-florian/