Let Us Live and Love (5)

Gaius Valerius Catullus

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love;
And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive;
But, soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.

If all would lead their lives in love like me,
Then bloody swords and armor should not be;
No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move,
Unless alarm came from camp of love.
But fools do live and waster their little light,
And seek with pain their ever-during night.

When timely death my life and fortune ends,
Let not my hearse be vexed with mourning friends;
But let all lovers rich in triumph come,
And with sweet pastime grace my happy tomb.
And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light,
And crown with love by ever-during night.

Translated by Thomas Campion in 1601. This poem is in the public domain.

Sparrow, the special delight of my girl, whom often she teases and holds on her lap and pokes with the tip of her finger, provoking counterattacks with your mordant beak, whenever my luminous love desires something or other, innocuous fun, a bit of escape, I suppose, from her pain, a moment of peace from her turbulent passion, I wish I could play like she does with you and lighten the cares of my sorrowful soul. It thrills me as much as the nimble girl in the story was thrilled by the gilded apple that finally uncinched her virginal gown.

To me that man seems like a god in heaven, seems—may I say it?—greater than all gods are, who sits by you & without interruption watches you, listens to your light laughter, which casts such confusion onto my senses, Lesbia, that when I gaze at you merely, all of my well-chosen words are forgotten as my tongue thickens & a subtle fire runs through my body while my ears deafened by their own ringing & at once my eyes are covered in darkness! Leisure, Catullus.

Him rival to the gods I place, Him loftier yet, if loftier be, Who, Lesbia, sits before thy face, Who listens and who looks on thee; Thee smiling soft. Yet this delight Doth all my sense consign to death; For when thou dawnest on my sight, Ah, wretched! flits my labouring breath. My tongue is palsied.

Poems

Let Us Live and Love (5)

More by this poet

Sparrow, the Special Delight of My Girl

To me that man seems like a god in heaven (51)

Him rival to the gods I place (51)

Poems

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Let Us Live and Love (5)

More by this poet

Sparrow, the Special Delight of My Girl

To me that man seems like a god in heaven (51)

Him rival to the gods I place (51)

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