That man seems to me to be equal to a god.
That man, if it's not sacrilege, [seems] to surpass the gods
Who, sitting across from you, time and again
Watches and listens to you
laughing sweetly, which snatches away
all senses from poor me: for as soon as
I saw you, Lesbia, nothing remained
of the voice in my mouth.
But my tongue is stiff, a delicate flame runs
under my limbs, my ears ring
with their own sound, my twin eyes are covered
with darkness.
Leisure, Catullus, is trouble for you:
In leisure you become overjoyed and too passionate:
Leisure has destroyed kings before
And blessed cities.
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Ille mī pār esse deō vidētur,
ille, sī fās est, superāre dīvōs,
quī sedēns adversus ĭdentidem tē
spectat et audit
dulce rīdentem, miserō quod omnīs
ēripit sēnsūs mihi: nam simul tē,
Lesbia, aspexī, nihil est super mī
vōcis in ōre.
Lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artūs
flamma dēmānat, sonitū suōpte
tintinant aurēs, geminā teguntur
lūmina nocte.
Ōtium, Catulle, tibī molestum est:
ōtiō exsultās nimiumque gestīs.
Ōtium et rēgēs prius et beātās
perdidit urbēs.
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