No More Learning

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
Deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
Dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, 10
Conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
Aut nequis malus invidere possit,
Cum tantum sciet esse basiorum.

V.

TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS--CLODIA? )

Love we (my Lesbia! ) and live we our day,
While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,
At one doit's value let us price and prize!
The Suns can westward sink again to rise
But we, extinguished once our tiny light, 5
Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!
Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,
Then thousand others, then a new five-score,
Still other thousand other hundred store.
Last when the sums to many thousands grow, 10
The tale let's trouble till no more we know,
Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us
Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and count all the mumblings of
sour age at a penny's fee. Suns set can rise again: we when once our brief
light has set must sleep through a perpetual night. Give me of kisses a
thousand, and then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then another thousand without resting, then a hundred. Then, when we have
made many thousands, we will confuse the count lest we know the numbering,
so that no wretch may be able to envy us through knowledge of our kisses'
number.

VI.

Flavi, delicias tuas Catullo,
Nei sint inlepidae atque inelegantes,
Velles dicere, nec tacere posses.
Verum nescioquid febriculosi
Scorti diligis: hoc pudet fateri. 5
Nam te non viduas iacere noctes
Nequiquam tacitum cubile clamat
Sertis ac Syrio fragrans olivo,
Pulvinusque peraeque et hic et ille
Attritus, tremulique quassa lecti 10
Argutatio inambulatioque.
Nam nil stupra valet, nihil, tacere.
Cur? non tam latera ecfututa pandas,
Nei tu quid facias ineptiarum.
Quare quidquid habes boni malique, 15
Dic nobis. volo te ac tuos amores
Ad caelum lepido vocare versu.

VI.

TO FLAVIUS: MIS-SPEAKING HIS MISTRESS.

Thy Charmer (Flavius! ) to Catullus' ear
Were she not manner'd mean and worst in wit
Perforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep.
But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what,
Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own. 5
For, nowise 'customed widower nights to lie
Thou 'rt ever summoned by no silent bed
With flow'r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil,
By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhere
Deep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couch 10
All crepitation and mobility.
Explain! none whoredoms (no! ) shall close my lips.