The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.
CATULLUSThe vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.
CATULLUSI can imagine no greater misfortune for a cultured people than to see in the hands of the rulers not only the civil, but also the religious power.
CATULLUSI hate and I love. Perchance you ask why I do that. I know not, but I feel that I do and I am tortured. [Lat., Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.]
CATULLUSWhat women say to lovers, you’ll agree, One writes on running water or on air.
CATULLUSGodlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her.
CATULLUSWho now travels that dark path from whose bourne they say no one returns. [Lat., Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum Illue unde negant redire quemquam.]
CATULLUSI write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.
CATULLUSWe see not our own backs.
CATULLUSBut you shall not escape my iambics.
CATULLUSFor the godly poet must be chaste himself, but there is no need for his verses to be so.
CATULLUSWhat a woman says to an eager lover, write it on running water, write it on air.
CATULLUSI hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.
CATULLUSThe confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted from us the gracious favor of the gods.
CATULLUSMy mind’s sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn’t like you if you were the best of women, -or stop loving you, no matter what you do.
CATULLUSNow Spring restores the balmy heat, now Zephyr’s sweet breezes calm the rage of the equinoctial sky.
CATULLUSEvery one has his faults: but we do not see the wallet on our own backs.
CATULLUS