[… come here tonight,] I beg, you, Gongyla,
take up your lyre [and sing to us;]
for once again an aura of desire
hovers around
your beauty, your dress thrills all those who see you
and the heart in my breast quickens;
once I too poured scorn on Aphrodite,
goddess of love,
but now I pray [that you will soon be here …]
oh, I wish [we were never parted …]
*****
† This poem is very fragmentary and the text is corrupt.