Translation copyright 1999 Diane Arnson Svarlien; all rights reserved.
Suck my dick, Aurelius, you fag.
Bend over, Furius, I’ve got something
here for you. So! You think I’m impure
and what’s your evidence? My poetry?
A little “soft” you say? Too “pretty” for you?
A poet’s life and person should be chaste,
inviolate — but in his poetry
what counts is charm, and lively stimulation;
impure thoughts, in verse that’s slightly soft,
can get a person going: not just boys
with their hair-trigger hard-ons — even geezers
bristled and arthritic, cocks as stiff
as wet cement, and just as agile. Now:
when you read phrases like “a thousand kisses”
you think that means the poet is unmanly?
Suck my dick. Bend over, Furius.
XVI: ad Aurelium et Furium
pedicabo ego uos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex uersiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
nam castum esse decet pium poetam
ipsum, uersiculos nihil necesse est;
qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici,
et quod pruriat incitare possunt,
non dico pueris, sed his pilosis
qui duros nequeunt mouere lumbos.
uos, quod milia multa basiorum
legistis, male me marem putatis?
pedicabo ego uos et irrumabo.
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