catullus test 1

Hesterno, Licini, die otiosi multum lusimus in meis tabellis, ut convenerat esse delicatos: scribens versiculos uterque nostrum ludebat numero modo hoc modo illoc, reddens mutua per iocum atque vinum. atque illinc abii tuo lepore incensus, Licini, facetiisque, ut nec me miserum cibus iuvaret nec somnus tegeret quiete ocellos, sed toto indomitus furore lecto versarer, cupiens videre lucem, ut tecum loquerer, simulque ut essem.

Yesterday, Licinius, at leaisure
writing many love poems in my tablet
as so it was agreed that we be self indulgent:
each of us writing light poetry
playin g now in one meter, then in another

giving back mutually with jokes and wine.
And so from there I went away, bruning because of your charm, Licinius, by your cleverness, so much so that not even food pleased me
nor did sleep close my little eyes
I, enraged with fury, tossed and turned on the whole bed, desiring to see the light so that I can speak to you and be together with you.

at defessa labore membra postquam semimortua lectulo iacebant, hoc, iucunde, tibi poema feci, ex quo perspiceres meum dolorem. nunc audax cave sis, precesque nostras, oramus, cave despuas, ocelle, ne poenas Nemesis reposcat a te. est vehemens dea: laedere hanc caveto

Tired with labor, half dead limbs after lying in my little bed
I composed this poem for you
so that you could see my pain
beware that you be bold, beware that you spit
we pray
lest Nemesis demand punishment from you.
She is a violent goddess: beware that you offend her.

Risi nescioquem modo e corona, qui, cum mirifice Vatiniana meus crimina Calvus explicasset admirans ait haec manusque tollens, 'di magni, salaputium disertum!'

I laughed at some guy from the crowd just now, when my Calvus had brilliantly laid out the Vatinian crimes, who, admiring these things and lifting his hands, said “Great gods, what an eloquent vertically challenged person.”

Si quicquam mutis gratum acceptumque sepulcris accidere a nostro, Calve, dolore potest, quo desiderio veteres renovamus amores atque olim missas flemus amicitias, certe non tanto mors immatura dolori est
Quintiliae, quantum gaudet amore tuo.

If anything pleasing to the mute tones is able to happen from our pain, by which desire we renew old loves and we lament over once upon a time lost friendships, certainly her early death isn’t as much of a pain to her as much as she rejoices in your love.

Cui dono lepidum novum libellum arida modo pumice expolitum? Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas meas esse aliquid putare nugas. Iam tum, cum ausus es unus Italorum omne aevum tribus explicare cartis . . . Doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis! Quare habe tibi quidquid hoc libelli— qualecumque, quod, o patrona virgo, plus uno maneat perenne saeclo!

To whom I dedicate this new, charming little book
just now polished with a dry pumice stone>
to you, corlnelius, for you were accustomed to think that my nonsense was something
then already when you alone of italians
set out to unfold every sheet of three papyrus rolls
learned and well worked over by jupiter
and so take for yourself whatever of a little book this is
whatever sort this is, o patron virgin
may it last perennially, for more than one generation