That man—he seems to be equal to a god, to me.

That man—if it’s OK to say so—seems to surpass gods,

who gets to sit across from you time after time,

and hear you, and watch you

sweetly laughing. The thought

rips each sense out of me: for

once I saw you, Lesbia, no words were left

within my mouth;

but, tongue-numbed, and with little embers

racing through each limb, my ears

began ringing with the thud of my chest,

      and two dusks fell over my two eyes.

One woman said the passion made her feel

both as dead and alive as still green grass.

And one man said such passions hide in leisure,

      which ruins kings and cities and happiness.