Intermissa, Venus, diu
rursus bella moves? Parce precor, precor.
Venus you are stirring up long paused wars again
Spare me, I beg I beg.
Non sum qualis eram bonae
sub regno Cinarae. Desine, dulcium
mater saeva Cupidinum, 5
circa lustra decem flectere mollibus
iam durum imperiis:
I am not as I was under the rule of good Cinara.
Stop, fierce mother of sweet Cupids (desires),
Bending a man already hardened around ten lustras with your soft commands:
abi,
quo blandae iuvenum te revocant preces.
Go away, to where charming prayers of young men summon you.
Tempestiuius in domum
Pauli purpureis ales oloribus 10
comissabere Maximi,
Timely, You, winged with your radiant swans will revel Into the house of Paulus Maximus,
si torrere iecur quaeris idoneum;
namque et nobilis et decens
et pro sollicitis non tacitus reis
et centum puer artium 15
late signa feret militiae tuae
if you seek to burn a suitable liver (heart);
For both noble and seemly and not silent on behalf of troubled defendants and a young man of a hundred skills; He will bear the standards of your soldiering widely.
et, quandoque potentior
largi muneribus riserit aemuli,
Albanos prope te lacus
ponet marmoream sub trabe citrea.
And at whatever time he, stronger than the gifts of a lavish rival, will have laughed whenever
Near the Alban lake, he will place a marble you under a citron beam.
Illic plurima naribus
duces tura, lyraque et Berecyntia
delectabere tibia
mixtis carminibus non sine fistula;
In that place, you will draw the most incense with your nostrils, and you will be charmed by the mixed songs of the lyre and Berecynthian flute not without a pipe.
illic bis pueri die
numen cum teneris virginibus tuum 25
laudantes pede candido
in morem Salium ter quatient humum.
In that place twice a day, boys celebrating your divinity with the tender virgins will shake the ground three times with a clear foot in Salliin custom.
Me nec femina nec puer
iam nec spes animi credula mutui 30
nec certare iuvat mero
nec vincire novis tempora floribus.
Neither a woman nor a boy pleases me now neither trusting hope of the like mind nor does it please me to compete with wine nor to restrain my temples with new flowers.
Sed cur heu, Ligurine, cur
manat rara meas lacrima per genas?
Cur facunda parvm decoro 35
inter verba cadit lingua silentio?
But why oh Ligurinus, why does a rare tear flow along my cheek?
Why does my fluent tongue fall with too little graceful silence between words,
Nocturnis ego somniis
iam captum teneo, iam volucrem sequor
te per gramina Martii
campi, te per aquas, dure, volubilis.
now I hold you captured in my nightly dreams, now I follow winged you through the grass of the Campus Martius, through twisting waters, you cruel one.