A hungry translation Catullus 13
If your schedule is not so busy this Thursday, dear friends, then you will dine like a king chez moi. So long as, of course, you yourself bring the meal – and make it a large one, with wine, some Parisian ladies too, a good deal of wit and all the jokes you can find.
If and only if you do this, my fellow poets, you will dine like a king chez moi; for my purse has been eating baked potatoes for the last month.
However, I can offer you something much more tasteful and correct: a guy called Cupid gave it me on Rue de Venise – one sniff of this, friends, and you will ask the gods to make you all nose.
See you next Thursday!
