Poem 51

Godlike the man who
sits at her side, who
watches and catches
that laughter
which (softly) tears me
to tatters: nothing is
left of me, each time
I see her,
. . . tongue numbed; arms, legs
melting, on fire; drum
drumming in ears; head-
lights gone black.

– Catullus

Translation by Peter Whigham

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