Sparrow, darling of my girl
With whom she is accustomed to play, whom she is accustomed to hold in her lap
For whom she is accustomed to give her index finger
And to provoke sharp bites
When it is pleasing for my shining desire
To make some kind of joke
And a relief of her grief
I believe, so that her heavy passion may become quiet
If only I were able to play with you yourself, and
To lighten the sad cares of your mind
With whom she is accustomed to play, whom she is accustomed to hold in her lap
For whom she is accustomed to give her index finger
And to provoke sharp bites
When it is pleasing for my shining desire
To make some kind of joke
And a relief of her grief
I believe, so that her heavy passion may become quiet
If only I were able to play with you yourself, and
To lighten the sad cares of your mind
( Catullus )
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