Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
cui flauam religas comam,
simplex munditiis? Heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos flebit et aspera
nigris aequora uentis
emirabitur insolens,
qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
qui semper uacuam, semper amabilem
sperat, nescius aurae
fallacis. Miseri, quibus
intemptata nites. Me tabula sacer
uotiua paries indicat uuida
suspendisse potenti
uestimenta maris deo.
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What thin boy covered in flowing odors [perfume]
urges [presses] you down into many roses
into a pleasing cave, Pyrra?
For whom you simple with elegance untie
your auburn hair? Alas how often will he weep
for changing faith and gods and he inexperienced
will exceedingly wonder at the sea rough
with dark winds,
who now now enjoys you and believes [you]
golden, who hopes [you] always available, always
lovable, unknowing of fallacious [deceitful]
winds. [They] miserable, whom
you shine unattempted. A sacred wall with a
votive tablet indicates that I
have hung up wet
garments to the powerful god of the sea.
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