If a man can take pleasure in recollecting former acts
Of kindness, when he considers himself to be moral,
Not to have broken trust that is sacred, not to have
Abused in any pact the gods’ sanctity in the interest
Of deceiving people, then many joys lie ahead over
A long life, Catullus, grown for you
From this love that was rejected.
For whatever men can say or do to be kind
To someone, it has been said and done by you.
All your kind gestures have perished for being entrusted
To the heart of a woman who did not care for them.
So why torture yourself any longer?
Why not take stock in yourself and turn away
And stop being miserable when the gods do not desire you to be?
It is difficult to relinquish suddenly a love that long endured.
It is difficult, but you must accomplish it somehow:
This is your only hope, this is what you must overcome,
You must do this, whether it is possible or not.
Oh gods, if you can take pity, or if ever you have brought
Ultimate deliverance to anyone on the very verge of death,
Look upon me in my misery and, if I have lived my life faithfully,
Seize this plague and contagion from me
Which, like a torpor creeping deep into my limbs,
Has driven every happiness from my heart.
I am not now asking that she might love me back,
Or for the impossible – that she court chastity.
But I wish that I could be well and rid of this terrible sickness.
Oh gods, grant me this in return for my morality.