Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum uenustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
nam mellitus erat suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.
at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella deuoratis:
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis
O factum male! O miselle passer!
tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.
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Mourn, O Venus and Cupid [lovers],
and however many more charming people there are:
the sparrow of my girl is dead,
the sparrow, the delight of my girl,
whom she loved more than her own eyes.
Indeed he was honey-sweet and he knew
only she herself as well as the girl knew her own mother,
nor did he move himself away from her lap,
but hopping around now here now there
and chirped only for the mistress alone;
who now goes through the dark route,
from where they say no one returns.
May evil come to you, evil shadows
of Orcus, who devours all beautiful things:
thus you stole the beautiful sparrow from me.
O evil deed! O poor little sparrow!
Now by your deeds the swollen eyes
of my girls have become red by crying.
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