The poet seeks the warmth of love to ward off the chill of death, so long as they avoid old gossips and bad luck.
Read by Cristina Anason Lewis.
Catullus, Poem 5
Vīvāmus mea Lesbia atque amēmus
rūmōrēsque senum sevēriōrum
omnēs ūnius aestimēmus assis.
sōlēs occidere et redīre possunt:
nōbīs cum semel occidit brevis lūx,
nox est perpetua ūna dormienda.
dā mī bāsia mīlle, deinde centum,
dein mīlle altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mīlle, deinde centum.
dein, cum mīlia multa fecerīmus,
conturbābimus illa, nē sciāmus,
aut nē quis malus invidēre possit,
cum tantum sciat esse bāsiōrum.
Live with me, Lesbia, love with me. I wouldn’t give a cent for all the disapproving chit-chat from old people. The sun can go down – and come back; for us, once our brief light is out, one unending night of sleep.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then I’ll take another thousand, and another hundred, and then yet another thousand, and one more hundred. Then, when we have clocked up several thousand, we’ll muddle the figure, so we don’t know, so some spiteful person can’t cause trouble when he has the exact number of our kisses.
Music by Noah Sorota. Translation and recording © The Latin Qvarter 2020