July 1, 692

Catullus wrote me another poem about how he "loves me more than any other man could." I've heard all of this before from him, but I'm starting to think that it may be true. I'll admit that I kind of like torturing him like this- dangling my love right in front of his face, but never letting him reach it. Maybe someday I'll give it to him.

CAELI, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa.
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amauit omnes,
nunc in quadriuiis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.

Oh heavens, our Lesbia, that Lesbia,
that Lesbia whom Catullus alone
loved more than himself and all he had
now in the streets and alleys
ready to toss of the descendants of the noble Remus

NVM te leaena montibus Libystinis
aut Scylla latrans infima inguinum parte
tam mente dura procreauit ac taetra,
ut supplicis uocem in nouissimo casu
contemptam haberes, a nimis fero corde?

Was it a Lioness from the Libyan mountains
or a Scylla from below her womb
that bear you, you that are so cold-hearted and monstrous
to supplement your voice in my last plight
with comtempt, a too savage heart?

... I'm starting to feel guilty about the way I treat him, but that's what he wants right? Part of me thinks he's being genuine, but the other part thinks that he's only saying these things to make me look like a bad guy.. and to get me to have sex with him.