(After Catullus #5)
Claudia, let us live and love
and not give one dry fuck
for the wrinkled talk of men.
Suns will rise and set again
long after our little lights
go down to solid darkness.
So kiss me, Claudia -- hundreds,
thousands, hundreds -- give me kisses.
Let's kiss till we lose count
and so confound our judges.
A revision, of course, of the one from earlier today. Apologies for the profanity. It's not even in the original, but it seems to me to capture the spirit of Catullus.
thinking on James's suggestion that 'red' is better than 'dry.' he may simply be squeamish .... but he may be right, too. more unexpected, and a better echo of 'one red cent,' which is a much more literal translation, though it sounds wishy-washy in english.
what does it say about me that I've spend hours thinking about ths?