Catullus 44-50

Original Latin

XLIV. ad Fundum

O Funde noster seu Sabine seu Tiburs

(nam te esse Tiburtem autumant, quibus non est

cordi Catullum laedere; at quibus cordi est,

quovis Sabinum pignore esse contendunt),

sed seu Sabine sive verius Tiburs,

fui libenter in tua suburbana

villa, malamque pectore expuli tussim,

non inmerenti quam mihi meus venter,

dum sumptuosas appeto, dedit, cenas.

nam, Sestianus dum volo esse conviva,

orationem in Antium petitorem

plenam veneni et pestilentiae legi.

hic me gravedo frigida et frequens tussis

quassavit usque, dum in tuum sinum fugi,

et me recuravi otioque et urtica.

quare refectus maximas tibi grates

ago, meum quod non es ulta peccatum.

nec deprecor iam, si nefaria scripta

Sesti recepso, quin gravedinem et tussim

non mihi, sed ipsi Sestio ferat frigus,

qui tunc vocat me, cum malum librum legi.

XLV. ad Septimium

Acmen Septimius suos amores

tenens in gremio 'mea' inquit 'Acme,

ni te perdite amo atque amare porro

omnes sum assidve paratus annos,

quantum qui pote plurimum perire,

solus in Libya Indiaque tosta

caesio veniam obvius leoni.'

hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante

dextra sternuit approbationem.

at Acme leviter caput reflectens

et dulcis pueri ebrios ocellos

illo purpureo ore suaviata,

'sic' inquit 'mea vita Septimille,

huic uni domino usque serviamus,

ut multo mihi maior acriorque

ignis mollibus ardet in medullis.'

hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante

dextra sternuit approbationem.

nunc ab auspicio bono profecti

mutuis animis amant amantur.

unam Septimius misellus Acmen

mauult quam Syrias Britanniasque:

uno in Septimio fidelis Acme

facit delicias libidinisque.

quis ullos homines beatiores

vidit, quis Venerem auspicatiorem?

XLVI.

Iam ver egelidos refert tepores,

iam caeli furor aequinoctialis

iucundis Zephyri silescit aureis.

linquantur Phrygii, Catulle, campi

Nicaeaeque ager uber aestuosae:

ad claras Asiae volemus urbes.

iam mens praetrepidans avet vagari,

iam laeti studio pedes vigescunt.

o dulces comitum valete coetus,

longe quos simul a domo profectos

diuersae varie viae reportant.

XLVII. ad Porcium et Socrationem

Porci et Socration, duae sinistrae

Pisonis, scabies famesque mundi,

vos Veraniolo meo et Fabullo

verpus praeposuit Priapus ille?

vos convivia lauta sumptuose

de die facitis, mei sodales

quaerunt in triuio vocationes?

XLVIII. ad Iuventium

Mellitos oculos tuos, Iuventi,

si quis me sinat usque basiare,

usque ad milia basiem trecenta

nec numquam videar satur futurus,

non si densior aridis aristis

sit nostrae seges osculationis.

IL. ad Marcum Tullium Ciceronem

Disertissime Romuli nepotum,

quot sunt quotque fuere, Marce Tulli,

quotque post aliis erunt in annis,

gratias tibi maximas Catullus

agit pessimus omnium poeta,

tanto pessimus omnium poeta,

quanto tu optimus omnium patronus.

L. ad Lucinium

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.

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.

My Translation

Catullus 44: My Lovely Farmhouse

O my sweet country home, whether you’re Sabine or Tiburtine

(those who do not wish to hurt Catullus call you Tiburtine, but those who

do wish to offend would wager anything that you’re Sabine),

regardless, whether you’re Sabine or Tiburtine,

I am glad to warm myself by your hearth and heal from a

bad cough, which a stomach cold gave me– completely my fault–

when I stuffed myself at an extravagant dinner party.

There, I wished to be Sestius’s guest, so I read a speech,

full of poison and plague, against his opponent Antius.

Just then, a chilling cold and an unceasing cough started to weaken me,

until I fled to your breast, and healed myself with

rest and nettle soup.

Restored, I owe you so much gratitude for refusing to punish my sin.

Now, I won’t worry at all, for if I again read those

horrible words for Sestius, the sin will bring a chill,

a cough, not to me, but to Sestius himself–

after all, he only invited me after I’d read that vile work!

Catullus 45: Lucky in Love

Septimius, cradling his beloved Acme, proclaimed:

“My Acme, unless I love you with abandon

and prepare to love you continually throughout the years

as much as he who could love most,

I will, alone in Libya and sweltering India,

meet a grey-eyed lion.”

As he spoke, Cupid, sneezed his approval left and right.

And Acme, lifting her head slightly,

told the obsessed boy with her rosy lips, which had just kissed his eyes:

“My dear, my life,

let us serve forever our one master– more deeply and fiercely

does passion burn in my tender veins.”

As she spoke, Cupid, sneezed his approval left and right.

Now they set out with blessings, and

love and are loved with mutual desire.

Little Septimus prefers only Acme to all the

Syrian and British girls, and loyal Acme is delighted

and pleased by just her Septimus.

Who could ever find more blessed creatures,

so lucky in love?

Catullus 46: Goodbyes in Spring

Now, spring returns with mild warmth,

and the wild skies of the equator simmer down

with the west wind’s pleasant breeze.

Leave behind the Phrygian plains, Catullus,

and the fecund lands of humid Nicea:

Let's flee to Asia’s brilliant cities!

Now, the mind, shaking with excitement,

yearns to explore–

happy feet already stir with pleasure!

Farewell, O sweet crowd of friends,

who wandered from home together, and

who must return now in different ways,

to different roads.

Catullus 47: You Want…Them?

The two left hands of Piso, Septimus and Porcius,

–the world’s scabs and famines–

did that prick prefer you to my

wonderful Veranius and Fabulous?

How can you indulge in lavish, sumptuous dinner parties,

while my friends beg for invitations on street corners?

Catullus 48: My Iuventus,

if I could always be kissing your

honey-colored eyes as much as I

yearn to, 300,000 kisses would still

never be enough– not even

if we kissed more than the

harvest’s ears of grain would I ever be satisfied.

Catullus 49: Cicero

The most eloquent descendant of Romulus–

no matter how many there are or

how many there have been or

how many there will be in the years to come,

is Marcus Tullius.

Catullus, the least of all poets,

sends you the warmest gratitude–

he is as much the least of all poets,

as you are the greatest of all lawyers!

Catullus 50: Last Night

Yesterday, Calvus, we, relaxing,

played with my writing tablets and

agreed to be a little self-indulgent:

scribbling small verses, we, joking,

played with meters, reciting

this and that together with laughter and wine.

After I left, I was so enflamed by your charm, Calvus,

and your cleverness, that neither food pleased poor me,

nor sleep kindly shut my eyes–

untamed, I tossed wildly with passion, desperate for

the sun to rise so I might speak with, be with you.

Yet after, as I lay in my bed

exhausted, half-dead, and smiling,

I wrote this poem for you,

so you might empathize with my suffering.

I beg you, don’t be so bold,

and don’t show disdain for our prayers,

or else Nemesis will punish you.

She’s a violent goddess –

you don’t want to offend her.