Miser Catulle , desinas ineptire ,
et quod vides perisse perditum ducas .
Fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles ,
cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat
amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla ;
ibi illa multa cum iocosa fiebant
quae tu volebas nec puella nolebat ,
fulsere vere candidi tibi soles .
Nunc iam illa non volt ; tu quoque , impotens , noli ,
nec quae fugit sectare , nec miser vive ,
sed obstinata mente perfer , obdura .
Vale puella ! Iam Catullus obdurat ,
nec te requiret , nec rogabit invitam .
At tu dolebis , cum rogaberis nulla .
Scelesta , vae te ! Quae tibi manet vita ?
Quis nunc te adibit ? Cui videberis bella ?
Quem nunc amabis ? Cuius esse diceris ?
Quem basiabis ? Cui labella mordebis ?
At tu , Catulle , destinatus obdura .

Sad Catullus , stop playing the fool ,
and let what you know leads you to ruin , end .
Once , bright days shone for you ,
when you came often drawn to the girl
loved as no other will be loved by you .
Then there were many pleasures with her ,
that you wished , and the girl not unwilling ,
truly the bright days shone for you .
And now she no longer wants you : and you
weak man , be unwilling to chase what flees ,
or live in misery : be strong-minded , stand firm .
Goodbye girl , now Catullus is firm ,
he doesn’t search for you , won’t ask unwillingly .
But you’ll grieve , when nobody asks .
Woe to you , wicked girl , what life’s left for you ?
Who’ll submit to you now ? Who’ll see your beauty ?
Who now will you love ? Whose will they say you’ll be ?
Who will you kiss ? Whose lips will you bite ?
But you , Catullus , be resolved to be firm .

Woe-full Catullus ! cease to play the fool
And what thou seest dead as dead regard !
Whilòme the sheeniest suns for thee did shine
When oft-a-tripping whither led the girl
By us beloved , as shall none be loved .
There all so merry doings then were done
After thy liking , nor the girl was loath .
Then certès sheeniest suns for thee did shine .
Now she ' s unwilling : thou too ( hapless ! ) will
Her flight to follow , and sad life to live :
Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure .
Damsel , adieu ! Catullus obdurate grown
Nor seeks thee , neither asks of thine unwill ;
Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more ;
Reprobate ! Woe to thee ! What life remains ?
Who now shall love thee ? Who ' ll think thee fair ?
Whom now shalt ever love ? Whose wilt be called ?
To whom shalt kisses give ? whose liplets nip ?
But thou ( Catullus ! ) destiny-doomed obdure .