VIII
Enough, Catullus, of this silly whining;
What you can see is lost, write off as lost.
Not long ago the sun was always shining,
And, loved as no girl ever will be loved,
She led the way and you went dancing after.
Those were the days of lovers’ games and laughter
When anything you wanted she approved;
That was a time when the sun truly shone.
But now she’s cold, you must learn to cool;
Weak though you are, stop groping for what’s gone,