Catullus 14

Unless I love you more than my own eyes, most pleasant Calvus, I would hate you for that gift with Vatianan hatred: for what have I done or what have I said that you ruin me badly with so many poets? May the gods give many evils to that client who sent you so many soundrels. But if, as I suspect, Sulla the schoolteacher gave you this newly discovered gift , it is not bad for me but good and blessed, because your labors are not for nothing. Great gods, (what a) horrible and detestable little book! Which you clearly sent to your Catullus to kill (him) this very day, the Saturnalia, best of days! No, witty one, this will not escape you so. For, if it becomes light, I will run to the stalls of the booksellers; I will collect Caesii, Aquini, Suffenus—all the poisons—and I will pay you back for these punishments. You, meanwhile, goodbye, get away from here to this place from where you bore (your) evil foot, misfortunes of (our) age, worst poets.

Catullus 13

You will dine well, my Fabullus, at my house in a few days, if the gods favor you, if you bring with you a good, large meal, not without a fair girls and wine and wit and all the laughs; if you bring these, I say, my charming one, you will dine well; for the purse of your Catullus is full of cobwebs. But in return you will receive my love or what is more pleasant and elegant: for I will give a perfume which Venuses and Cupids gave my girl; which when your smell it, you will ask the gods to make you all nose, Fabullus.

Catullus 12

Marrucinus Asinius, you do not use (your) left hand well in joke and wine, you steal the napkins of the too careless. You think that this is witty? It escapes you, gauche fellow: it is as tacky and graceless as you like. You do not believe me? Believe Pollio, (your) brother, who would like your thefts to be exchanged even for a talent; for he is a boy stuffed full of charms and wits. Therefore, either expect 300 hendecasyllables or return the napkin to me, which does not move me by its cost but is a keepsake of my comrade. For Fabullus and Veranius sent Saetaban cloths from Spain to me; it is necessary that I love these as my little Veranius and Fabullus.

Catullus 11

Furius and Aurelius, comrades of Catullus, whether he will make his way among the farthest Indians as the shore is pounded afar by the resounding Eastern wave, or among the Hyrcani or soft Arabs, or the Sagae or the arrow-bearing Parthians, or what waters the seven-mouthed Nile colors, or he will walk across the lofty Alps, seeing the monuments of great Caesar, the Gallic Rhine, the rough water, and the farthest Britons, prepared to try all these things at the same time, whatever the will of the sky-dwellers bears, report a few not-good words to my girl: let her live and be well with her adulterers, whom having embraced she holds three hundred at a time, loving none truly, but at the same time breaking the thighs of all, and let her not look for my love as before, which the fault of that one has fallen like a flower at the edge of a field after it has been touched by a passing plow.

Catullus 10

My Varus had lead me at my leisure from the Forum to see his love: a little tart (as it then seemed immediately to me) not entirely without wit or grace; as we arrived here, various conversations fell to us, among which how (lit. what) was Bithynia now, in what way it kept itself, and with what money it had profited me. I responded this which was: there was nothing, neither for the (inhabitants) themselves nor for the praetors nor for the staff, why anyone took back a more oily head: especially for (those) who had a jerk praetor, and he did not value (lit. make) his staff for a hair. “But certainly yet,” they say, “you obtained (this) which is said to be born there, men for your litter.” I say (as to make myself one better for the girl), “It was not so bad for me that because a bad province had fallen (to me) that I could not obtain eight sturdy men.” (But I had not one, neither here nor there, who could put the broken foot of an old couch on his shoulder.) Here that one said, as befitted a slut, “Please, my Catullus, lend them to me a little while; for I want to be born to Serapis.” “Hold on,” I said to the girl, “That which I had said just now that I had. . .reason fled me: my buddy, it is Gaius Cinna—this one got (them) for himself. But whether his or mine, what (is it) to me? I use (them) as well as (if) I had gotten (them) for myself. But you witless, evil girl, you live poorly around whom it is not permitted to be sloppy.”

Catullus 9

Veranus, standing out for me from all my 300,000 friends, have you come home to your household gods and your likeminded brothers and aged mother? You have come! O messages blessed to me! I will see you safe and hear you telling the places, deeds, nations of the Spaniards, as is your custom, and pressing your sweet neck I will kiss your face and eyes. O as much is of the more blessed people, what is happier or more blessed than me?

Catullus 8

Wretched Catullus, stop being a fool, consider lost what you see has been lost. Bright suns once shone for you when you used to come frequently to where your girl was leading, loved by us as no woman will be loved; then when those many jokes were made, which you wished for nor did your girl did not want, bright suns truly shone for you. Now that woman does not want; you too, powerless one, do not want! Neither chase what flees, nor live miserable, but with obstinate mind, endure, be firm! Goodbye girl, now Catullus is firm, neither will he miss you, nor will he ask you unwilling. But you will grieve when you will not be asked. Wicked woman, woe to you! What life remains for you? Who will approach you now? To whom will you seem beautiful? Whom will you love now? Whose will you be said to be? Whom will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite? But you, Catullus, stubborn, be firm.

Catullus 7

You ask me how many kisses of yours, Lesbia, are enough and too many. As great the number of the Libyan sand lies on silphium-bearing Cyrene between the oracle of sweltering Jove and sacred tomb of old Battus; or as the many stars, when the night is quiet, see the furtive loves of humans: that you kiss so many kisses is enough and too many for (your) mad Catullus, which neither busybodies can count nor an evil tongue (is able) to curse.

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.

Catullus 5

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and let us value all the rumors of the too harsh old men at one penny! Suns are able to set and return; as soon as the brief light sets for us, one perpetual night must be slept. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred; then another thousand, then a second hundred; still another thousand, then a hundred. Then, when we have made many thousands, we will confuse them, lest we know, or lest some evil man can envy, when he knows how many kisses there are.