Carmina III by Catullus

All you Loves and Cupids cry
and all you men of feeling
my girl’s sparrow is dead,
my girl’s beloved sparrow.
She loved him more than herself.
He was sweeter than honey, and he
knew her, as she knows her mother.
He never flew out of her lap,
but, hopping about here and there,
just chirped to his lady, alone.
Now he is flying the dark
no one ever returns from.
Evil to you, evil Shades
of Orcus, destroyers of beauty.
You have stolen the beautiful sparrow from me.
Oh sad day! Oh poor little sparrow!
Because of you my sweet girl’s eyes
are red with weeping, and swollen.



Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum venustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
nam mellitus erat suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.
at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis
o factum male! o miselle passer!
tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

It gets better with experience

A friend of mine commented recently on the plight of his adolescent son. The poor lad had recently split up with his girlfriend and was feeling rather down. My first instinct was to think how dreadful heartache is at such a tender age, especially when one had such high hopes and is convinced it is the real thing. When one is so young, one is determined to prove to all the adults that what the lovers share is authentic and has the same gravitas as grown-up relationships. It is almost an exercise in validation vis-a-vis the adult world. One cannot help but feel that adults are gently mocking the relationship and it is not until one reflects on past school crushes and sweethearts that one fully takes on board the comparative insignificance of the interlude in the grand scale of things. Other lovers come and go and feelings subsume anything that has been previously felt. Each time one is convinced it's the real thing. Yet with each relationship one learns new things and improves one's game. Learns how to be more open, or less indiscreet, and other such idiosyncracies.

But it also occurred to me that despite all of this, heartbreak is one thing that does not get easier with experience. No matter how many times one goes through it, it always feels so utterly devastating. And it does not get easier to bounce back and recover from a break-up. If it does, that is more of a reflection on the true nature of the relationship and its lack of value compared to previous lovers. Alternatively, it might be symptomatic of how cumulative heartbreaks permanently impair one's ability to properly love freely and fully. It hurts less when it ends because you didn't let your guard down and get in too deep. You didn't commit and make yourself vulnerable - completely at the mercy of someone who has the exclusive power to smash your heart to pieces and reduce you to a sobbing wreck. You didn't trust them this time.

A sophisticated defence mechanism? Maybe. Or perhaps one is genuinely damaged with each break-up and simply incapable of loving to the same capacity. Almost like gluing a broken jug back together. It will never be as strong and watertight as before, no matter how much superglue you use. And even if it is watertight, it still bears the ugly, clumsy joins. Not quite the same as before. It becomes easier to smash as there are fault lines. If the breaks reoccur on the same lines, then fine - you already know how to repair the damage. But a new crack means a new fragment and increased fragility. It also means decreased capacity to contain anything and new lovers circle each other warily like two tigers in a cage. Each one reluctant to make the first move yet ready to flee if necessary. This begs the question, can one ever find love after betrayal?