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This poem is taken from PN Review 148, Volume 29 Number 2, November - December 2002.

Thirteen Poems (translated by Simon Smith) Catullus


Whom do I present my pretty little sequence
Buffed up this very minute with light-grey pumice?

To you, of course, Cornelius, for only you
Were the one who thought something of my ditties -

First and only amongst Italians, who'd risk
Chronicle the whole story in three episodes,

Well-read, by God, an obvious labour of love;
Keep my booklet (trim and slender) for all it's worth,

Let us pray Great-Good-Lady patroness on high
It'll live longer than one trip around the block.


Poor Catullus, quit kidding yourself just quit
Now know you've lost in admitting the losing

Okay, there was a time when the sun shone all day long on you
When you followed where the girl led you loved by us all as well

As we who never loved no one before. No not never nor after. Never.

Yeah, there were plenty of the 'good times' to go

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