Addressed to Roman society
1 Why don't you stop fabricating the crime of apathy for me,which you say, all you eyes of Rome, is the cause of our delay?
She is separated as many miles from my bed
as is the Hypanis from the Venetian Po.
Cynthia doesn't nurture my usual affections with her
embrace, nor sounds sweet in my ear.
Once I pleased her: no one then could
claim to love with such intensity
We were victims of envy: didn't some god eclipse me? Well, what
herbs from Promethean heights divided my bed?
I am no longer what I was: a long road changes girls.
In a scrap of time, love has flown so far!
Now, for the first time, I am forced to know long nights
alone and hate the sound of my own voice.
He's happy who cried for a girl who was actually there.
Love delights in being sprinkled with tears.
Or if the despised lover can change his passion's object,
there are pleasures too in transferring one's servitude.
For me it's not fated to love anyone else or to stop loving her:
Cynthia was the first, Cynthia will be the last.