Catullus Ille mi par esse deo videtur,
ille, si fas est, superare divos
qui sedens adversus identidem te
spectat et audit
dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis
eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te ,
Lesbia, adspexi, nihil est super mi
vocis in ore
lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus
flamma demanat, sonitu suopte
tintinant aures, gemina teguntur
lumina nocte.
Otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est:
otio exsultas nimiumque gestis:
otium et reges prius et beatas
perdidit urbes.
----
Catullus, he seems to me almost god-like,
he – dare I say it – exceeds the gods,
the guy who always sits facing you,
watching and listening,
sweetly laughing, ah, miserable wretch that I am
going out of my head with excitement:
for as soon as I see you,
Lesbia,
I am left tongue-tied, too paralyzed to speak
too overcome with sharp flames in a febrile body,
the sound of ringing in my ears,
my eyes doubly covered in shadows.
Catullus, you have too much time on your hands:
too much time, and you act too
impetuously:
the thing that’s destroyed past kings & prosperous
cities.