§11.1Petti, nihil me sicut antea iuvat §11.2scribere versiculos amore percussum gravi, §11.3amore, qui me praeter omnis expetit §11.4mollibus in pueris aut in puellis urere.
Pettius, it pleases me not at all, as before, to write verses, stricken as I am by a heavy love— by love, which seeks me out beyond all others to burn me with passion for tender boys or girls.
This is now the third December, since I ceased to rage for Inachia, that shakes down the glory from the woods.
§11.7heu me, per Vrbem (nam pudet tanti mali)
Alas for me, what a great talk of the town I was throughout the City (for I am ashamed of so great an evil)!
§11.8fabula quanta fui, conviviorum et paenitet, §11.9in quis amantem languor et silentium §11.10arguit et latere petitus imo spiritus.
And I regret the banquets, in which the lover's languor and silence, and the sigh drawn from the depth of my chest, betrayed me.
§11.11“contrane lucrum nil valere candidum §11.12pauperis ingenium” querebar adplorans tibi, §11.13simul calentis inverecundus deus §11.14fervidiore mero arcana promorat loco.
"Is the pure genius of a poor man of no avail against wealth?" I used to complain, lamenting to you, as soon as the shameless god, with stronger wine, had brought my secrets from their hiding place as I grew warm.
§11.15“quodsi meis inaestuet praecordiis §11.16libera bilis, ut haec ingrata ventis dividat §11.17fomenta volnus nil malum levantia, §11.18desinet inparibus certare submotus pudor. ” §11.19ubi haec severus te palam laudaveram, §11.20iussus abire domum ferebar incerto pede §11.21ad non amicos heu mihi postis et heu §11.22limina dura, quibus lumbos et infregi latus.
"But if a free indignation should boil up in my breast, so as to scatter to the winds these thankless remedies that in no way soothe my painful wound, my modesty, cast aside, will cease to contend with unequal rivals." When I, putting on a stern face, had openly boasted of these things to you, bidden to go home, I was carried with uncertain step to posts that, alas, were not friendly to me, and, alas, to the hard threshold, upon which I bruised my loins and side.
§11.23nunc gloriantis quamlibet mulierculam §11.24vincere mollitia amor Lycisci me tenet; §11.25unde expedire non amicorum queant §11.26libera consilia nec contumeliae graves, §11.27sed alius ardor aut puellae candidae §11.28aut teretis pueri longam renodantis comam.
Now, love for Lyciscus holds me, who boasts that he surpasses any loose woman in tenderness; from which neither the free advice of friends nor heavy insults can extricate me, but only another passion, either for a fair girl or for a shapely boy who ties back his long hair.