Catullus 66

Original Latin

Omnia qui magni dispexit lumina mundi,

qui stellarum ortus comperit atque obitus,

flammeus ut rapidi solis nitor obscuretur,

ut cedant certis sidera temporibus,

ut Triviam furtim sub Latmia saxa relegans

dulcis amor gyro devocet aereo:

idem me ille Conon caelesti in limine vidit

e Beroniceo vertice caesariem

fulgentem clare, quam multis illa dearum

levia protendens brachia pollicita est,

qua rex tempestate novo auctus hymenaeo

vastatum finis iuerat Assyrios,

dulcia nocturnae portans vestigia rixae,

quam de virgineis gesserat exuviis.

estne novis nuptis odio Venus? anne parentum

frustrantur falsis gaudia lacrimulis,

ubertim thalami quas intra limina fundunt?

non, ita me divi, vera gemunt, iuerint.

id mea me multis docuit regina querellis

invisente novo proelia torva viro.

et tu non orbum luxti deserta cubile,

sed fratris cari flebile discidium?

quam penitus maestas exedit cura medullas!

ut tibi tunc toto pectore sollicitae

sensibus ereptis mens excidit! at ego certe

cognoram a parva virgine magnanimam.

anne bonum oblita es facinus, quo regium adepta es

coniugium, quod non fortior ausit alis?

sed tum maesta virum mittens quae verba locuta est!

Iuppiter, ut tristi lumina saepe manu!

quis te mutavit tantus deus? an quod amantes

non longe a caro corpore abesse volunt?

atque ibi me cunctis pro dulci coniuge divis

non sine taurino sanguine pollicita es,

si reditum tetulisset. is haut in tempore longo

captam Asiam Aegypti finibus addiderat.

quis ego pro factis caelesti reddita coetu

pristina vota novo munere dissolvo.

invita, o regina, tuo de vertice cessi,

invita: adiuro teque tuumque caput,

digna ferat quod si quis inaniter adiurarit:

sed qui se ferro postulet esse parem?

ille quoque eversus mons est, quem maximum in oris

progenies Thiae clara supervehitur,

cum Medi peperere novum mare, cumque iuventus

per medium classi barbara navit Athon.

quid facient crines, cum ferro talia cedant?

Iuppiter, ut Chalybon omne genus pereat,

et qui principio sub terra quaerere venas

institit ac ferri stringere duritiem!

abiunctae paulo ante comae mea fata sorores

lugebant, cum se Memnonis Aethiopis

unigena impellens nutantibus aera pennis

obtulit Arsinoes Locridis ales equos,

isque per aetherias me tollens avolat umbras

et Veneris casto collocat in gremio.

ipsa suum Zephyritis eo famulum legarat

Graiia Canopitis incola litoribus.

hi dii ven ibi vario ne solum in lumine caeli

ex Ariadnaeis aurea temporibus

fixa corona foret, sed nos quoque fulgeremus

deuotae flavi verticis exuviae,

vuidulam a fluctu cedentem ad templa deum me

sidus in antiquis diva novum posuit.

Virginis et saevi contingens namque Leonis

lumina, Callisto iuncta Lycaoniae,

vertor in occasum, tardum dux ante Booten,

qui vix sero alto mergitur Oceano.

sed quamquam me nocte premunt vestigia divum,

lux autem canae Tethyi restituit

(pace tua fari hic liceat, Ramnusia virgo,

namque ego non ullo vera timore tegam,

nec si me infestis discerpent sidera dictis,

condita quin veri pectoris evoluam),

non his tam laetor rebus, quam me afore semper,

afore me a dominae vertice discrucior,

quicum ego, dum virgo quondam fuit omnibus expers

unguentis, una milia multa bibi.

nunc vos, optato quas iunxit lumine taeda,

non prius unanimis corpora coniugibus

tradite nudantes reiecta veste papillas,

quam iucunda mihi munera libet onyx,

vester onyx, casto colitis quae iura cubili.

sed quae se impuro dedit adulterio,

illius a mala dona levis bibat irrita pulvis:

namque ego ab indignis praemia nulla peto.

sed magis, o nuptae, semper concordia vestras,

semper amor sedes incolat assiduus.

tu vero, regina, tuens cum sidera divam

placabis festis luminibus Venerem,

unguinis expertem non siris esse tuam me,

sed potius largis affice muneribus.

sidera corruerint utinam! coma regia fiam,

proximus Hydrochoi fulgeret Oarion!

My Translation

He who once gazed upon the great lights of this world, 

who learned the risings and settings of the stars, 

and how the swift sun’s blazing brightness dims, 

and how the constellations regularly vanish, 

and how delicate love, in her airy movements,

secretly captures the moon beneath 

Latmus’s rocks–

that same astronomer, Conon, saw 

me in the clear light of heaven, 

a lock of hair taken straight 

from Berenice’s head, shining brilliantly.

He saw me, taken from she

whose outstretched slender arms 

made promises to many gods

in those times when the great king, newly married, 

had gone to besiege the Assyrian borders, 

which still bear the tender marks of those

nightly struggles– the king

stolen from his maiden’s spoils. 

Does Venus hate new brides?

Do brides mock their parents’ joy by 

outpouring false tears 

within the bridal chamber?

No – 

so help me gods–

I know they grieve honestly, 

for my queen taught me this,

crying out when her brave 

husband left for war. 

And you, too, did not mourn 

your empty bed for nothing–

but rather for the bitter death 

of your dear brother. 

How deeply grief devoured the veins of your heart!

How shaken with anxiety your mind was then – 

slipping away from all your senses!

Yet even then I knew that you, although still a young girl, 

possessed a powerful spirit. 

Do you forget your noble deeds, by

which you secured your royal matrimony–

deeds which no one “braver” 

would have ever dared to do?

Do you forget the words you, grieving, spoke 

as you sent your husband away–

how often your shaking hand wiped 

tears from your eyes?

What god has changed you? 

Or perhaps it is simply that lovers 

cannot bear to be separated for so long 

from the body they love?

In place of your great husband, you’ve promised 

me and the blood of bulls to every god, 

if only he returned.

And in no time, he did–

conquering Asia all the way to Egypt’s borders, while 

I, stolen by the stars, 

repay an old promise 

with a new gift. 

Unwillingly, my queen, did I leave your crown! 

Unwillingly, my queen, I swear it on you and your life!

Let any man who testifies falsely against me

get what he deserves – but 

who, in vain, would go so far to equate himself to iron?

Even the mountain was cut through–

the greatest one on this shore, 

over which Athos’s bright lights rise,

and the barbarian fleet, 

sailing on Medes’s new sea, 

punctured the mountain’s heart. 

What could hair possibly do, 

when iron is so powerful?

Let all the races of the Chalybes perish–

especially whoever first searched the undergrowth 

for the veins of ore 

and forged iron’s strength. 

Just before my sisters mourned my fate as a lock

cut away,

Arsínoe’s winged bird – the 

kin of Memnon’s Ethiopia–

came forward, beating the air 

with its trembling wings,

harnessed to the horses of Locres. 

It lifted me through the misty shadows and 

placed me in Venus’s pure lap. 

Arsínoe herself sent her servant there,

who lives on the Canoptic shores, so that 

not only would the golden crown resting on 

Ariadne’s brow shine in heaven’s shifting light, 

but we, too, the spoils of 

a golden head promised to the gods, 

may twinkle among the stars. 

Still damp from the sea’s spray, 

I came to the temples of the gods 

and the goddess placed me

among the ancient constellations, 

as a new star. 

Touching the Virgin’s stars and 

the constellation of the fierce Lion, 

lying beside the Lycaonian Callisto, 

I turn my gaze towards the setting sky and 

lead burdened Bootës, 

who, late, sinks into the deep Ocean before dawn. 

Through the night, the god’s footsteps 

press upon me, 

and when daylight comes, 

I return to the grey Tethys. 

Let me speak here–

with your leave, Virgin Ramnusia, 

for I will not hide the truth in fear, 

nor, although the stars themselves hurl hostile words at me, 

will I fail to expose what lies inside 

my true heart. 

I do not rejoice so much in these honors, 

for I suffer – forever parted 

from my lady’s hair. 

It was I who, when she was but a girl 

and knew nothing of perfumes, 

humbly drank her many oils. 

Brides, who the longing torch joins, 

do not give your bodies to your husbands first, 

baring your breasts.

First, offer pleasing gifts to me, your onyx,

who keeps the marriage bed pure. 

But those who have committed foul adultery? 

Let the dust steal their worthless gifts!

I ask for no gifts from the unworthy. 

O Brides, let harmony and love 

always stay in your homes–

never once ceasing! 

And you, my queen, 

when you gaze up at your divine constellation, 

resting among the stars, 

and appease Venus with 

your festive lights, 

don’t let me lack for perfume–

favor me with your gracious gifts!

I wish the stars would fall! 

Then I ​​could again become a royal lock of hair,

and leave Orion alone to blaze beside Aquarius!