For the Lesbia lover in all of us

I made this!

I got this tattoo today!

My dear Fabullus, you will dine well at my house in a few days if the gods favor you, and if you bring with you a great and good dinner, not without a pure girl and wine and salt and all the jokes. If you bring these, I say, our charming one, you will dine well—for your Catullus's purse is full of cobwebs. But in return you will receive pure love or that which is sweeter and more elegant: for I will give perfume, which the Loves and Charms gave to my girl, and when you smell it, you will ask the gods that they make you, oh Fabullus, all nose.

Mourn, O Venuses and Cupids and however many there are of charming people: my girl's sparrow is dead— the sparrow, delight of my girl, whom that girl loved more than her own eyes. For he was honey-sweet and had known the lady better than a girl [knows] her mother herself, nor did he move himself from that girl's lap, but hopping around now here now there he chirped constantly to his mistress alone, he who now goes through the shadowy journey thither, whence they deny that anyone returns. But may it go badly for you evil shadows of hell, who devour all beautiful things. You have taken from me so beautiful a sparrow. Oh evil deed! Oh wretched little sparrow! Now through your deeds the eyes of my girl, swollen with weeping, are red.

Septimius, holding his lover Acme, in his bosom, said, “my Acme, if I do not love you desperately and I am not further prepared to love you continually through all years, as much as he who is able to die the most, alone in Libya and scorched in India may I come to meet the blue eyed lion.” As he said this, Love sneezed approval on the left as before on the right. But Acme, bending back her head lightly, and having kissed the drunken eyes of the sweet boy with that deep red mouth, “so,” she said, “my life, little Septimius, let us serve for this one master continually, that a flame much greater and sharper burn for me in the gentle marrow.” As she said this, Love sneezed approval on the left as before on the right. Now, having set out from the good omen they love and are loved by their mutual minds. Poor little Septimius prefers Acme alone to Syria and Britain: the faithful Acme finds pleasure and desire in Septimius alone. Who has seen any humans more blessed, who (has seen) luckier Venus?

Rufus trusted friend to me in vain and to no avail (in vain? rather with a great price and with trouble), Thus you crept under me and consuming my intestines alas, you snatched away all our good things from miserable me? Alas, alas, you snatched away cruel poison of our life, alas, alas plague of our friendship.

Alfenus, unmindful and false to your like-minded companions, now does it pity you nothing, harsh one, of your sweet little friend? do you no longer doubt to betray and deceive me, traitor? And the impious deeds of treacherous men do not please the sky-dwellers. Which you neglect and you desert wretched me in evils. Alas, tell me what men should do or in whom men should have faith? Certainly, you ordered me to hand-over my soul, unfair one, leading me into love, as if everything would be safe for me. Now, the same you draw back you, and your words and all your deeds you allow the winds and airy clouds to carry away unfulfilled. If you forget, but the gods remember, the Fates remember, who later will make you regret your deeds.

Wretched Catullus, you should cease to be useless, and that which you see to have perished you'll lead to ruin. Bright suns once shone for you when you would come wither she was leading, a girl beloved by us as much as no girl will be loved. There wherever those many jokes happened, which you wanted nor the girl did not want: truly bright suns shone for you. Now already she wants not; you also, don't be impotent, neither follow she who flees, nor live miserable, but endure with a resolute mind, be hard. Farewell, girl! Already Catullus is firm, neither will he seek you nor will he ask you unwilling. But you will be sad when you will not be asked. Woe to you, wicked one! Which life stays for you? Who now will go to you? To whom will [you] seem pretty? Whom will you now love? Whose will you be said to be? Whom will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite? But you, Catullus, be resolved to be firm.

Carried through many nations and over many seas, I arrive, brother, for these miserable funeral rites, so that I might finally grant the service of the dead and speak to your silent ashes pointlessly, since Fortune has deprived me of you in the flesh. Ah, poor brother, undeservedly lost to me, now at least for the meantime, these things which in the time-honored way of our ancestors are handed down in mournful service to the rites receive, utterly sodden by a brother's tears and for eternity, brother, a tribute and farewell.

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask? I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.

Click this link to submit something.

I will sodomize you and face-fuck you, Cock-sucker Aurelius and catamite Furius, You who think, because my verses Are delicate, that I am immodest. For it's right for the devoted poet to be chaste Himself, but it's not necessary for his verses to be so. Verses which then have taste and charm, If they are delicate and sexy, And can incite an itch, And I don't mean in boys, but in those hairy old men Who can't get their flaccid dicks up. You, because you have read of my thousand kisses, You think I'm a sissy? I will sodomize you and face-fuck you.