Text.Breler.1611-02.A1v/Translation

To Johann Christoph Graeter, my great friend, and among the More recent, the most sincere.

Best of friends, most friendly of the best.

Famous is that playful and delicate song of a certain poet Florus in the life written by Spartianus:

I do not wish to be Caesar,
To ride through the Britons,
To suffer the Scythian frosts.

Also known is the Emperor's witty and clever reply:

I do not wish to be Florus,
To walk through the taverns,
To suffer the round mosquitoes.

If some proletarian made of potter's clay, a Momus or a grain-waster, sings to me:

I do not want to be considered a poet,
Nor to be called a seer,
Or to be devoted to verses.

Immediately it comes to mind, what I would retort:

I do not want to be considered a jester,
Nor to be called a mushroom,
Or to be devoted to trifles.

For with this very writing of mine, not poetic perhaps, but certainly belonging to the Muses, I have tried to show that. And that it would visit you above all was made so by my love and truly great affection for you, my great friend. Farewell.

Melchior Breler.