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By Catullus Submitted by goldflakes Date: 2006 Jun 12 Comment on this Work [[2006.06.12.14.31.8204]] |
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If I didn't love you more than my eyes, most delightful Calvus, I'd dislike you for this gift, with a true Vatinian dislike: Now what did I do and what did I say, to be so badly cursed with poets? Let the gods send ill-luck to that client who sent you so many wretches. But if, as I guess, Sulla the grammarian gave you this new and inventive gift, that's no harm to me, it's good and fine that your efforts aren't all wasted. Great gods, an amazing, immortal book! That you sent, of course, to your Catullus, so he might immediately die, on the optimum day, in the Saturnalia! No you won't get away with this crime. Now when it's light enough I'll run to the copyists bookstalls, I'll acquire Caesius, Aquinus, Suffenus, all of the poisonous ones. And I'll repay you for this suffering. Meanwhile farewell take yourself off, there, whence your unlucky feet brought you, cursed ones of the age, worst of poets. |