​Give up, Catullus, these extravagances end now,
what you can see is over, Please. Just. Call. Over.
The sun itself encouraged you back then, shining
on you wherever you were led, your girl cracking
her whip – a girl we loved as no girl has ever
been loved before.  Good times were staged those days – days when
you wanted it, and truly she did not not want
it – yes, the sun, it really shone on you those days.
But now, she doesn’t want you.  So, then, you also
at last must harden up, stop chasing her, tragic
and whiplashed, but rein in your heart, and stand steadfast.
So goodbye, girl! Catullus is resolved, no more
demands against your will, no more of this chasing –
but what post-despot life is left for you?  Now who
will be your supplicant?  Who’ll think you beautiful?
And who will you love now?  Who’ll call you their girlfriend?
Who will get kissed, whose lips are about to be bitten?
But you, Catullus, hold out till the end of time.