Translation is undoubtedly an art. Take, for example, the follow ing lines from Virgil's Georgics:
Tenuia nec lanae per caelum vellera ferri;
Non tepidum ad solem pinnas in litore pandunt dilectae Thetidi alcyones.
They have been construed, with admirable accuracy by a classical pedant whom we shall not name, as: No fleecy films now float along the sky; Not to the sun's warmth then upon the shore Do halcyons dear to Thetis open up their wings.
But much more pleasing is the loose translation of the poet Dryden: The flimsy gossamer now flits no more, Nor halcyons bask on the short, sunny shore, and in addition, this version has more internal consistency than might be immediately obvious. Firstly, Virgil, describing the return of winter, refers to the legend of the halcyon days, , a brief "Indian Summer" familiar to the ancient Greeks. The halcyon, a species of kingfisher, was said to build its nest and lay its eggs on the shores of the Mediterranean during this brief spell of unseasonally good weather.
But another version of the Indian Summer is "St Martin's Summer". Although there seems to be no sign of it at present, a spell of calm conditions is said often to occur around St Martin's feast day, which falls tomorrow. The story goes that on a cold November morning Martin met a shivering beggar and gave him half his cloak; God continues to commemorate his generosity by sending a few days of fine weather, or "St Martin's Summer", around this time of year.
Now, in due course, Martin was named Bishop of Tours. Legend has it the diffident Martin hid in a barn to avoid the call, but his presence was betrayed by a noisy goose, and after his elevation he had the interfering bird put down and served for dinner. This, we are told, established the tradition of eating goose at Martinmas, and explains why "St Martin's Summer" is sometimes called the "Goose Summer".
Finally, many species of spider, it seems, disperse their populations by allowing themselves to be wafted over long distances by air. On sunny, breezy days around this time of year, they climb to the top of some convenient projection, weave a silken thread that may be several yards in length, and climb out along it until both spider and thread are carried off by the wind; the thread is often seen drifting with the breeze and shimmering in the "Goose Summer" sunlight.
This "goose-summer" thread we know as gossamer - which completes the link hinted at by Dryden to halcyon days.