Catullus 50

Yesterday, my Licinius, at leisure
we wrote very much poetry on my tablets,
since it had been decided to be frivolous:
each one of us writing our lines of poetry and
was playing in this meter or that meter,
each one of us is exchanging things through joke and wine.
And I went from there, having been inflamed
by your charm and your wit, Licinius,
that as a result, food could not help me
nor did sleep cover my little eyes with rest,
but I, unconquered, was turned with fury
on the whole couch, desiring to see the light,
in order that I could speak with you the same time that I could be (with you).
But my half dead limbs were lying on the little bed
after having been exhausted by work,
at this time, delightful one, I made poems for you,
from which you may recognize my pain.
Now don't be bold, my dear, and I pray
take care that you not reject my pleas,
lest Nemesis demand punishment from you:
she is a violent goddess, take care not to harm her.

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 vemens dea: laedere hanc caveto.

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