My poor Catullus, what is gone is gone,
Take it for gone, and be a fool no more--
Heaven, what a time it was! Then white suns alone
For you, you following where she went before--
I loved her as none ever shall be loved!

Then happened all those happy things -- all over,
All over, all gone now, and far away!
Then you got all you would, my happy lover,
And she was not unwilling -- day after day
White suns shone, white suns shone, and you were loved.

And now she is unwilling -- let her know
That you can turn back from a vain pursuit,
Now live no longer wretched, turn and go
Strong on your way, be hard, be resolute.--
Good-bye, my dear. Catullus goes unmoved.

Catullus never will yearn for you again.
You are unwilling -- he will not ask for you.
You'll sorrow when no one asks for you,-- and then,
Bitter and bad and old, what will you do?
What hope have you to give love and be loved?

What life is there for you? -- What life is there?
Who will come now for love and your delight?
Whose will they say you are? Who'll think you fair?
Whom will you kiss? Whose lips now will you bite?
But you, Catullus, go your way unmoved.