Catullus 6

Flavius, unless she were ungraceful and inelegant,
you would wish to declare your darling to Catullus
and you would not be able to be quiet.
But in fact you love some kind of feverish prostitute:
It is shameful to confess this.
For your couch, silent in vain, smelling with garlands and Syrian olive, shouts
That you do not lie through celibate nights,
and your pillow equally worn both this one and that one,
and the shaken, creaking and walking of your trembling bed.
For it avails nothing to be silent about your debauchery
You would not reveal such worn out sides
Unless you were doing something gauche.
Wherefore, whatever you have of good and evil, tell us!
I wish to call you and your girl to the sky with my charming verse.