Poor Catullus, end this idiocy;
put a full stop to the story. It’s all over.
True, you had days of blinding sunshine
when she led you time and time again
exactly where you wanted to go,
she, Clodia, the girl you loved
more than any girl shall ever be loved (by you) again.
In those days and in those places
wonderful things were done,
things to make the gods smile,
marvellous things that were entirely mutual.
Days of sunshine, days of roses.
Now she doesn’t want it any more.
You’ve got to put it behind you even if it breaks you.
Stop running after her; you won’t catch her now.
Don’t go on living in such misery.
Try to see this through.
Goodbye, girlfriend. Catullus will not budge,
he won’t beg for anything any more.
But you’ll be sorry, Clodia, when you’re not asked for.
I could pity you. What wretched leftover life will you have ?
Who will come to see you now? Who’ll be besotted by your beauty?
Who will love you now? Who will you “belong” to?
Who will you kiss? Whose lips nibble?
Enough Catullus. You’re going to see this through.
after Catullus 8, Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire
Originally appeared on VoegelinView Read More