|
Ille mi par esse deo videtur,
ille, si fas est, superare divos,
qui sedens adversus identidem te
spectat et audit
dulce ridentem, misero quod omnes
eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te,
Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi
vocis in ore;
lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus
flamma demanat, sonitu suopte
tintinant aures geminae, teguntur
lumina nocte.
otium, Catulle, tibi molestumst:
otio exsultas nimiumque gestis:
otium et reges prius et beatas
perdidit urbes.
* To compare the English translation of this poem
with a translation of Sappho's poem (fragment 31).
|
He seems to me the equal of a god,
he seems, if that may be, the gods' superior
who sits face to face with you and again and again
watches and hears you
sweetly laughing, an experience which robs me
poor wretch, of all my senses; for the moment I set
eyes on you, Lesbia, there remains not a whisper
of voice on my lips,
but my tongue is paralyzed, a subtle flame
courses through my limbs, with sound self-caused
my two ears ring, and my eyes are
covered in darkness.
Idleness, Catullus, is your trouble;
idleness is what delights you and moves you to passion;
idleness has proved ere now the ruin of kings and
prosperous cities.
**This elegant English translation
is that of G.P. Goold, and can be
found in his book, Catullus,
which was published in 1983 by Duckworth Press.
|