He seems to me the equal of a god
Even if-I may- say, surpassing the gods.
Who sits facing you time after time,
Gazes on and hears you sweetly laughing:
As poor mortal me bereft of all my senses
In the moment I behold you, Lesbia,
I cannot speak, my tongue is paralysed
Deep beneath my limbs a tenuous fire
Whilst in my ears I hear sounds ringing
The twin night-darkness clothes my eyes .
Idleness Catullus, is the trouble with you,
Idle exultation to excessive lust.
Idleness before us was a scourge of Kings
And many wealthy cities to perdition.
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