If there be joy for one who looks back on his youth
And knows he has kept faith with God and men,
Never outraged the sanctity of truth,
And never outraged trust -- there is joy then
For you, Catullus, in the long years to be,
Out of this love, out of this misery.

For all the service and duty that men can wish and give
You have given to one heart, and you know their loss--
They are lost, and their loss tortures you, and you live
Wretched to rail at fate -- you are on your cross!
Leave your cross. Take the only cure, and be
Resolute, rid of love and misery!

It is hard at once to lay aside the love of years--
It is hard, but must be -- God! if ever you gave
Help to the dying -- if you are moved by tears,
Look on me wretched! Pity me and save!
I have lived pure -- from this love let me free!
Let me free, root this canker out of me!

This lethargy has crawled through all my heart and brain,
And driven out joy, like death evil and sure.
I do not ask that she love me again,
Nor -- what can not be now -- that she be pure.
Let me be strong, rid of this agony --
O God, for what I have been grant this to me!