Catullus: VIII Miser Catulle (Poor old Catullus)

Poor old Catullus, stop carrying on
and treat what's going as going - or gone
the sun shone bold on us, we were so true
when you led and she followed adorable you.

You loved and adored her; she was enslaved.
You took what you wanted: she loved what you gave.
The sun that was light on us isn't the same
now that she's gone from us: extinguish the flame.

Time to pack up your heart and make your mind still
to dig in your heels, and say, when you will:
"Farewell to you lady. Catullus is stone
 he wants you no more: go off on your own.

 Do you suppose, you'll get a lover again?
 Night after night, you'll be flirting in vain.
 Who'll come to you now? Who'll tell you you're cool
 and kiss you and hold you? Who'll now play the fool
 for you? Who'll make you laugh and whimper and moan?"

And you too, Catullus. You're better off stone.

Translation © 2026 Jurek Kirakowski