Dear passerby, these poems are relatively accurate translations from Latin originals of the 1st Century BCE. If you are offended by frank language about bodily parts and functions, please read no further.
Catullus 1

On whom shall I bestow this svelte little book
Just back from scribe shop, pumiced and sleek?
Why you, Cornelius; you always deigned to look
At my silly poems and tell me they were great.
Especially now, since you, alone among Italians,
Have dared to chronicle All Time in just three scrolls,
But, holy Jove! How learned, and hard work too!
Therefore, take this tiny book, such as it is,
For whatever it's worth; and, O protectress maiden,
I pray that it might last for more than just one lifetime.

Catullus 2

Budgie, sweetie of my sweetheart,
The one she plays with, the one she snuggles,
The one she teases with her finger
And offers it for serious nibbling,
When my radiant enamorata
Wants a game to warm her heart and
Find some comfort for her sorrow,
To calm, I guess, her raging passion.
I want to play with you like she does,
And clear this gloomy funk from my soul!
I like it as much as they say the girl
Was smitten, mid-race, by the golden apple
Which untied the tight knot on her girdle.

Catullus 3:

Weep, O Venuses and Cupids
and all the men of charm,

my girl's sparrow is

my girl's pet, which she used to love more than her own eyes.
For it was honey-sweet, and it knew my girl herself as well as
a girl her mother,

nor did he move himself from her lap, but
hopped around this way and that, continually chirping
to his mistress alone.

Now he goes through that dark journey from which
they say no one returns. Let it be evil for
you, you malignant darkness of Orcus,
who devours all things beautiful,
for you stole so sweet a sparrow from me.

O, badly done! O, poor little sparrow!

My girl's swollen eyes grow red from your deeds.

(Kara Von Behren)
Catullus 5

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love
and all the rumours of the austere and aged ones
let us count as a copper coin!
Suns set and can return again
but once this brief light has set for us
night is an eternal sleep.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then again another thousand, then a hundred...
then when we'll have made many myriad
we shall throw them into confusion, so we do not know,
nor can anyone conjure against us
when he knows of so many kisses.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 5:

Let us live, Lesbia, and love,
and let us value all the rumors
of severe old men at only one
Suns can set and rise again, yet when
our short light has been extinguished, one
perpetual night must be slept by us. So

give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,

then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then still another thousand, then another hundred, then
when we will have made many thousands of kisses,
we will mix them us so that we don't know how many there are
and so that some evil one is not able
to spy on us, knowing the sum of our kisses.

(Kara Von Behren)
Catullus 5

Our love must live and will not wait,
dear Lesbia; as the fogeys prate,
we ought their talk at one cent rate!
Suns that set new days recall,
for us when our short light does fall
perpetual night makes us her thrall.
So kiss me, kiss me, kiss me again,
Another five, another ten,
Sweet kisses by the thousands, then
when many billions we bestow
Let's mix them up, so we don't know
Nor any scoundrel's envy grow
Who finds out we've been kissing so!

Catullus 7

You ask how many of your osculations would be
enough and more for me, Lesbia.
As great as the number of Cyrenean
silphiumed African sands that lie
between the oracle of sweltering Jove
and the sacred sepulchre of ancient Battus;
or as many as the stars, when the night is quiet,
see the furtive affairs of men:
you giving this many kisses might be
enough and more for mad Catullus,
so that the curious cannot count them
and evil tongues cannot cast spells.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 8 (Free verse version)

Miserable Catulus, cease to play the fool,
and consider lost that which you see has been lost.
Once brillian suns shone for you,
when you used to come wherever you girl led you--
that girl loved by you as no other girl will ever be loved --
when many joyful things happened there with her
which you wanted, nor did she refuse.
Truly bright suns shone for you.
Now she is no longer willing: you too, helpless, do not want;
neither follow her who flees nor live miserably,
but keep a resolute mind, be strong.
Farewell, girl! Now Catullus is strong;
he will neither seek you, nor ask you out if you are unwilling.
But you will suffer, when you are asked out by no one.
Wretched woman, woe unto you! What life remains for you?
Who will visit you now? To whom will you seem beautiful?
Whom will you love now? Whose will you be said to be?
Whom will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite?
But you, Catullus, stubborn, be strong.

(Susannah LeVine)

Catullus 8 (approximately rhyming and metered version)

Oh miserable Catullus, why don't you simply cease,
to play that woman's fool, and leave affairs in peace?
Consider lost for good this thing which you see lost;
bright suns shone for you -- consider them past.
Once you were happy to trip along behind
the girl you loved like no one else. By her hand
she led you on, all willing, to exquisite joys:
consider those joys the suns of days gone by.
Now she doesn't want you: try to feel the same!
Dont follow when she flees: that's not her wish this time!
But don't live unhappily; make yourself strong,
and harden your thoughts. It won't be too long
before you say "Goodbye to you! Catullus is strong!
He doesn't need you any more!" It won't be too long.
You wretched woman! Now one will ask you now
to follow like your puppy, to mule your plow.
So what life is there for you? Who will visit you?
Will he think you beautiful? What will you two do?
Who else will you love? Will you say you're his?
Will you bite his lips as well -- your deadly kiss?
Catullus! Be strong! And stubborn, cease at last
to be her fool. What's in the past is past.

(Susannah LeVine)

Catullus 12

Marrucinus Asinus,
you do not use your left hand well, in joking and drinking
lifting the napkins of the neglectful. You think this is witty???

well you are mistaken, you idiot. It is a dirty little trick and way

You don't believe me? Ask your brother, Pollio, who would give a talent to
undo your thefts.

for he is a boy stuffed full of wit and charm.

Return my napkin or expect 300 hendecasyllables!
Because its not the value that moves
me, but the fact that it is a memento of my buddies.

For Veranius and Fabullus sent me Saetaban napkins from Spain,
therefore i must love them
like I love my Fabullus and baby-Veranius.

(Emily Wilson)

Catullus 16.

I will fuck you up the ass & make you suck my dick,
pathic Aurelius & Catamite Furius,
who thought, from my little verses,
which are somewhat voluptuous, that I am hardly chaste.
For it is fitting for a dutiful poet himself to be chaste,
though his verses need be none;
which then finally have salt & wit,
if they are a bit voluptuous & also hardly chaste,
& because they can incite sexual itching,
I say not just in boys, but even in those hairy men
who are unable to move their heavy loins.
You, because you have read many thousands of kisses,
think me to be a bad example of a male?
I will fuck you up the ass & make you suck my dick.

(H. Kate Rears)

Catullus 25

Thallus, you fairy , softer than a furry little bunny,
or the softest of the goose's soft feathers or a baby's little earlobe,
or a senior's droopy penis lying neglected and covered in cobwebs.

But at the same time Thallus you are more rapacious
than the wildest tornado
whenever the goddess of sloth shows that the dinner guests
are yawning.

Give me back my house coat that
you swooped upon, and my spanish napkins,
and my Bithnyan embroideries,
which you, idiot, keep exhibiting just as
family heirlooms.

Unglue them now from your crooked talons and return my stuff!

for fear that ill use a whip to burn in some really bad lines
on your corpulent thighs and flabby little hands .

you will get excited in a new way,

like a little toy boat in a big sea rocked
by a violent wind.

(Emily Wilson)

Catullus 28.

Comrades of Piso, unprofitable staff,
with knapsacks light & ready for travel,
the best Veranius & you, my Fabullus,
what do you make of things? Did you
nourish your hunger & coldness enough with that terrible dud?
On the tablets, does anything show of small profits
spent, as I, having followed my
commander, refer to what I paid out as small profits?
O Memmius, you made me, supine & also for a long time,
suck that supple dick well with that whole nasty shaft.
But, from what I can see, you two were in an equal
situation: for you were stuffed
with a penis no less erect. Seek noble friends!
But to YOU, may the gods & goddesses give many bad things,
you disgraces of Romulus & Remus.

(H. Kate Rears)

Catullus 32

Please, my sweet Ipsitilla,
my darling, my dear,
command me to come to your siesta.
And if you order me, help me out;
don't let anyone bar the door,
nor let the fancy strike you to go out,
but stay in your house and get ready for us
nine non-stop fuckifications.
However if you'll do anything, call me over right away:
for I am sated and stuffed and supine,
poking out through my tunic and cloak.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 38

Cornificius, your Catullus suffers,
by god, and drudgingly and
more and more by the days and hours!
With what word of comfort, so simple and small,
do you encourage him?
I am vexed with you. This is how you answer my love?
Give me some word, as little as you like,
sadder even than the tears of Simondies.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 46

Now spring brings back defrosting warmth,
now the equinoctical rage of the sky
grows quiet in the pleasant breezes of the west wind.
The Phyrgian fields should be quitted, Catullus,
& the fertile territory of sweltering Nicaea:
let us fly to the famous cities of Asia.
Now the mind, trembling in anticipation, yearns to roam,
now the happy feet rejoice in their pursuit.
Be well, o sweet company of friends,
whom, having journeyed together far from home,
routes headed in different directions carry back in different ways.

(H. Kate Rears)

Catullus 46

Already spring brings back balmy weather
Already the equinoctial rage of the sky grows silent
with the breezes of delightful Zephyrus.
Let the Phrygian fields and the rich plain of
sweltering Nicaea be deserted, Catullus:
Let us fly to the famous cities of Asia.
Now my anxiously trembling mind yearns to wander
Now my feet grow strong with joyful longing
O farewell sweet bands of friends,
whom flung out far different and diverse roads return home.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 46:

Now spring brings back thawed warmth,
Now the fury of the spring equinox sky
becomes silent with the gentle airs of Zephyr.
Leave Phrygian plains, Catullus,
and the fertile field of blazing Nicea:
Let us fly to the famous cities of Asia.
Now the mind trembling with anticipation
yearns to wander,
now joyous feet grow strong
with zeal.
O, farewell sweet company of
comrades, who, having set out a long way
from home at the same time,
different routes bring us back by various paths.

(Kara Von Behren)
Catullus 46

-Now the spring brings back his melting warmth.
-Now the equinoctal heaven's rage
Grows placid on the Zephyrs joyous airs.
No longer linger in the Phrygian plains,
Catullus, and Nicaea's sweltering field;

To Asia's thrilling cities time to fly.

-Now anticipation makes thoughts wander;
-Now impatient feet start getting happy!
Auf Wiedersehen, you lovely bunch of pals!
Though far from home we traveled here as one,
Our different paths bring us diversely back.

Catullus 85

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you might demand.
I do not know, but I feel it happening and it crucifies me.

(Jennifer Benedict)
Catullus 88

What does he do, Gellius, who scratches his itch
with his mother and sister and keeps the night vigil with clothes thrown aside?
What does he do, who won't let his uncle be a husband?
Do you even know how much sin he sustains?
He is in so deep, Gellius, that neither farthest Tethys
nor Oceanus the father of Nymphs can wash it away
for there is nothing so sinful that might surpass this farther
unless with lowered head he blew himself.

(Jennifer Benedict)

Catullus 97
(metre: comic anapests)

I'll be damned if I thought that it mattered a bit
if I smelled Emil's mouth or his anus
No more maculate this nor immaculate that;
Yes, I'd label his anus less heinous!
'Cause it's toothless, but sesquipedalian fangs
fill his gob, and his sagging gums flutter.
And his gangrenous grin makes me think of the cunt
of a jenny in rut making water.
So he fucks all the girls and he plays mr. cool,
and he's not mucking mules as a gangman?
Any female who'd touch him, why shouldn't we think
she'd lick ass on a pox-rotten hangman?

Catullus 98
(metre: comic anapests)

Rotten Victor, if anyone merits what's said
against babblers and blockheads, it's you.
With that foul tongue of yours, if the need should arise,
you'd lick buttholes, and boot-bottoms too.
So if all that you want is to kill us, you scum,
Simply open your mouth, that will do.