Poem 27: To His Wine-Bearer
By Gaius Valerius Catullus
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
By Gaius Valerius Catullus
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Come boy, and serve me that rich vintage
The Old Campanian wine.
Pour me a strong drink. With more spirit
Better this bowl of mine.
Postumia the party-mistress
Full of more alcohol
Than these drunk grapes, demands as much.
It is her judgment call.
But you, weak water, great diluter,
Polluter of the vine,
Come nowhere near my grape-kissed lips
Nor touch this bowl of mine.
Be sobering with sober men,
And get out of my sight
For I will drink, and only drink
Red Bacchus straight tonight.
The Original:
Minister vetuli puer Falerni,
inger mi calices amariores,
ut lex Postumiae iubet magistrae
ebrioso acino ebriosioris.
at vos quo lubet hinc abite, lymphae,
vini pernicies, et ad severos
migrate. Hic merus est Thyonianus.
Full of more alcohol
Than these drunk grapes, demands as much.
It is her judgment call.
But you, weak water, great diluter,
Polluter of the vine,
Come nowhere near my grape-kissed lips
Nor touch this bowl of mine.
Be sobering with sober men,
And get out of my sight
For I will drink, and only drink
Red Bacchus straight tonight.
The Original:
Minister vetuli puer Falerni,
inger mi calices amariores,
ut lex Postumiae iubet magistrae
ebrioso acino ebriosioris.
at vos quo lubet hinc abite, lymphae,
vini pernicies, et ad severos
migrate. Hic merus est Thyonianus.
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