III. The Tears of Lesbia’s Sparrow [yes, again]
Mourn, o Venuses and Cupids,
and whatever amount of lovely people there are:
my girlfriend’s sparrow is dead,
the sparrow which she loved more than her own eyes –
for he was honey-sweet to her, and he had known her
so well as a girl knows her mother,
nor did he move himself away from her lap,
but hopping around at one time hither and another time thither
he was chirping always to his mistress alone:
now he goes through that shadowy journey,
from which they deny anyone to return.
But let it go badly with you, evil shadows
of Orcus, who devour all beautiful things:
stay away from my so-beautiful sparow.
O bad deed! O unhappy sparrow!
Now by your work my girl’s swollen eyes
grow red with weeping.
III. fletus passeris Lesbiae
LVGETE, o Veneres Cupidinesque,
et quantum est hominum uenustiorum:
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
nam mellitus erat suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius mouebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.
at uobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella deuoratis:
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis
o factum male! o miselle passer!
tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.