Wretched Catullus, stop being a fool,
and what you see has perished, consider perished.
Blazing suns once shone for you
when you would always come where the girl led,
a girl beloved by us as no girl will be loved.
There when those many playful things happened,
things which you wanted, nor was the girl unwilling,
truly, blazing suns shone for you.
Now, now she is not willing; you, powerless, must not want:
do not follow one who flees, do not live miserably,
but endure with a resolute mind, harden yourself.
Farewell, girl! Already Catullus is firm,
he will not seek you out, nor will he ask one who is unwilling.
But you will be sad when you are not asked.
Woe to you, miserable woman! What sort of life remains for you?
Who now will come to you? To whom will you seem pretty?
Whom now will you love? Whose will you be said to be?
Whom will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite?
But you, Catullus, be resolved to be strong.
Miser Catulle, dēsinās ineptīre,
et quod vidēs perīsse perditum dūcās.
Fulsēre quondam candidī tibī sōlēs,
cum ventitābās quō puella dūcēbat
amāta nōbīs quantum amābitur nūlla.
Ibi illa multa cum iocōsa fīēbant,
quae tū volēbās nec puella nōlēbat,
fulsēre vērē candidī tibī sōlēs.
Nunc iam illa nōn vult: tū quoque impotēns nōlī,
nec quae fugit sectāre, nec miser vīve,
sed obstinātā mente perfer, obdūrā.
Valē puella. Iam Catullus obdūrat,
nec tē requīret nec rogābit invītam.
At tū dolēbis, cum rogāberis nūllā.
Scelesta, vae tē! quae tibī manet vīta?
Quis nunc tē adībit? Cui vidēberis bella?
Quem nunc amābis? Cuius esse dīcēris?
Quem bāsiābis? Cui labella mordēbis?
At tū, Catulle, dēstinātus obdūrā.