Living Poets

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Catullus, ''Poem'' 42}}
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Adeste, hendecasyllabi, quot estis<br />
omnes undique, quotquot estis omnes.<br />
iocum me putat esse moecha turpis,<br />
et negat mihi {{#lemma: nostra | ''nostra'' Politianus: ''uestra'' M}} reddituram<br />
pugillaria, si pati potestis.{{#linenum: 5}}<br />
persequamur eam et reflagitemus.<br />
quae sit, quaeritis? illa, quam uidetis<br />
turpe incedere, mimice ac moleste<br />
ridentem {{#lemma: catuli | ''catuli'' m: ''catulli'' m}} ore Gallicani.<br />
circumsistite eam, et reflagitate,{{#linenum: 10}}<br />
‘moecha putida, redde codicillos,<br />
{{#lemma: redde, putida moecha, codicillos!’ | ''redde…codicillos'' om. m}}<br />
non assis {{#lemma: facit | ''facit'' Halbertsma: ''facis'' M}} : o lutum, lupanar,<br />
aut si perditius {{#lemma: potest | ''potest'' m: ''potes'' m}} quid esse.<br />
sed non est tamen hoc satis putandum.{{#linenum: 15}}<br />
quod si non aliud potest, ruborem<br />
ferreo canis exprimamus ore.<br />
conclamate iterum altiore uoce.<br />
‘moecha putida, redde codicillos,<br />
redde, putida moecha, codicillos!’{{#linenum: 20}}<br />
sed nil proficimus, nihil mouetur.<br />
mutanda est ratio modusque {{#lemma: uobis | ''uobis'' m: ''nobis'' m}},<br />
siquid proficere amplius potestis:<br />
‘pudica et proba, redde codicillos.’<br />
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Come, hendecasyllables, all of you from every quarter, as many as there are of you. A foul adulteress thinks I am a joke, and refuses to give me back my writing tablets, if you can bear it. [5] Let’s pursue her and demand them back. Which one is she, you ask? That one whom you see strutting about disgracefully, laughing ridiculously and insolently with the mouth of a Gallic dog. Surround her and demand them back: [10] “Filthy adulteress, give back the writing tablets, give back the writing tablets, you filthy adulteress!” She doesn’t care a penny: what a dirty trollop, or any insult still worse than that. But we must not think that this is enough. [15] Even if nothing else can be done, let’s draw a blush from that bitch’s brazen face. Cry out again with louder voice: “Filthy adulteress, give back the writing tablets, give back the writing tablets, you filthy adulteress!” [20] But we are getting nowhere; she is unmoved. You need to change your plan and method, if you can have greater success with this: “Chaste and honest maiden, give back the writing tablets.”
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{{CollectionsBox
|editor=Nicholas Freer
|guides=[[The Perils of Autobiography]]
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{{#set:Short title=Catullus, ''Poem'' 42}}