Now spring brings back mild breezes without cold, now heaven's equinoctial fury
falls silent at Zephyr's pleasant breezes. Let the Phrygian meadows be left
behind, Catullus, and the teeming fields of sun-scorched Nicaea: let us fly to the glorious cities of
Asia. Now my palpitating soul longs
to wander, now happy in their zeal my feet grow strong. O sweet band of
comrades, fare you well, whom various roads in different directions carry back
all at once setting out far from home.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.