V Honey, let’s live. let’s really live for love. The hell with what those greyhead foggies bawl That crap’s not worth the shine off a bent-up penny. The sun may set, though suns can rise again, But when the hot glow of our short-lived light Gives us the last cold smoulder, then the night Plunges our slumber through a dawnless gloom. So serve me a thousand kisses! Then a hundred More thousands! Don’t stop now! Another hundred And millions more, serve up another hundred We lose count as we volley and serve them all. Don’t stop to count them. Evil eyes might leer And glitter green with envy at our kisses. VIII O poor Catullus, stupid long enough! Open your eyes and see: What’s gone is gone. Once how the sunlight sparkled! Glorious weather When you would stroll out after her: A girl Loved as no other ever was or will be. The things we did, the fun we had together, Some things I wanted, things she eased me into. Then how the sunlight sparkled- glorious weather. Now she wants out: Get over it! Endure it! Don’t dawdle after her; don’t you sit moping, Make up your mind to be a man. Endure! Just say: Goodbye girl. Show her what you’re made of. Just tell her: I don’t need you; won’t come crawling. But you’ll be sorry when there’s none to love you. Who’s there to love and live for? What’s to live for? Who’ll hover round you? Praise your body’s beauty? What man’s the new one? Whose will you be called? Whose lips on yours? Teeth- teasing tongue...O stop it! Stupid Catullus, be a man! Endure! XVI I’ll bend you over, and I’ll fuck your faces, You, facial Furus and you, anal Aurelius For thinking me a lewd man for my writing Which is, in fact, quite sensual and slutty. A pious poet needs his chastity, Who said his verses can’t be naughty though? My verses need some charm, and should be witty, And so they must be sensual and slutty And sexy- so they’re able to arouse, Not boys, but hairy men who just can’t raise Their listless, lifeless dicks up from the dead. Because you’ve read of kisses by the thousand, You think me unmanly? Less of what I’m made of? I’ll bend you over, and I’ll fuck your faces XLIV The balm of vernal warmth is back already. Already now the breath of western breezes Hushes the heavens' equinoctial rage. Catullus, leave the Phrygian fields and plains For meads that teem in the Nicaean country, Let’s fly to Asia’s cities, gold in glory. My soul’s aflutter as it yearns for travel. I feel new life. The eager feet grow strong. Farewell dear friends who left your distant homes To rove and roam, this way and that way, wandering By winding roads that wind up in one place. LXX “And I’d still love you if high Juppiter Were hitting on me. Still I would, I swear” Girls’ vows to lovers might as well be scribbled In rushing rivers and in windy air. 75... Now my mind’s been brought to such a state, and it’s your fault- Lesbia!- Been so skewed, devoted so to you, I could not like you again if you turned truest of women, Nor fall out of love for all the worst you’d do. 85.. I hate the girl I love. You ask how I know or can? I don’t know. I just feel. Ask any tortured man. CV. To Richard, A Critic Once little Dick tried climbing up The Mountain of the Muses Head first they grabbed him, and with spears They jerked him off their mountain