Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema. Catullus at Lesbia's (1865)
Here is a translation LZ made of Carmina VIII,
the 22nd poem in his separate collection Anew published in 1946:
Miserable Catullus, stop being foolish
And admit it's over,
The sun shone on you those days
When your girl had you
When you gave it to her
like nobody else ever will.
Everywhere together then, always at it
And you liked it and she can't say
she didn't
Yes, those days glowed.
Now she doesn't want it: why
should you, washed out
Want to. Don't trail her,
Don't eat yourself up alive,
Show some spunk, stand up
and take it.
So long, girl. Catullus
can take it.
He won't bother you, he won't
be bothered.
But you'll be, nights.
What do you want to live for?
Whom will you see?
Who'll say you're pretty?
Who'll give it to you now?
Whose name will you have?
Kiss what guy? bite whose
lips?
Come on Catullus, you can
take it.
