Symphosius, Riddles 59
I’ll post a few poems from this collection of riddles. I’ll keep the solution to this one back until I give you the next one!
non sum cincta comis et non sum compta capillis.
intus enim crines mihi sunt, quos non videt ullus.
meque manus mittunt manibusque remittor in auras.
I’m not encircled with hair, and I’m not adorned with tresses.
For my hair is inside, and no one can see it.
Hands throw me, and I am thrown back into the air by hands.
Quite a virtuosic little poem, with some remarkable alliteration in the first and last lines, three words for ‘hair’ and interesting half-rhymes at the end of the lines.