​Tragic Catullus, give up this extravagant absurdity,
and what you can see is over, direct as Over.
Once you had the sun itself encouraging you,
when you would go wherever your girl directed you,
a girl we loved as no one has ever been loved before.
And such riotous entertainments were staged –
you wanted it, and your girl didn’t not want it –
the sun really shone for you.
Now she doesn’t want you, and you, thrown over, also
have got to stop wanting and not chase after her or live in misery
but stand fast and reign in your feelings.
Goodbye, girl!  Now Catullus is resolute,
he won’t come looking for you, he won’t make demands against your will.
But you will be sorry, when no one is asking for you.
What sort of life have you got left?
Who will be your supplicant now?  Who will find you beautiful?
Who will you love now?  Whose girl will you be called?
Who will you be kissing?  Whose lips are you going to bite?
…But you, Catullus, stand fast.