Catullus 51

Greek lyre player, an illustration by John Pittaway from "Picture Reference Book of the Ancient Greeks" by Boswell Taylor (Brockhampton Press, 1974)

Han som ofte sitter ved din side
og betrakter og hører på deg
synes til meg som en gud, ja -- tørr jeg si det --
enda større en selve gudene.
Din søtt latter, min Lesbia, stjeler fra meg all forstand,
jeg trenger bare å stå ved din side
og ordene forsvinner fra mitt hode.

Tungen lammes, en spinkel ild
sprer seg gjennom kroppen min, mine ører
døves av sin egen ringing, mine øyne
dekkes av mørke.
Latheten, Catullus, blir din undergang:
så mye leilighet gjører deg målløs.
Mange store konger og byer har gått under
på grunn av latheten.

© copyright 26-2-2001 by Ricardo Odriozola

Lyric 51 and other poems by Catullus can be found in Norwegian and a host of other languages at Rudy Negenborn's Catullus Translations site.

Here is a translation of this poem into English:

He seems to me to be equal to a god,
he, if it is permissible, seems to surpass the gods,
who sitting opposite again and again
sees and hears you,
sweetly laughing, which stole all
the senses from miserable me: for when I look at you,
Lesbia, no voice is left to me in my mouth.

But the tongue slips, under the limbs
a thin flame pours down, with their own sound
the ears are ringing, the eyes
are covered by twin night.
Leisure, Catullus, is mischievous to you:
You revel in and desire leisure too much:
Leisure has previously destroyed kings and
blessed cities.