Читать книгу Yale Classics (Vol. 2) - Луций Анней Сенека - Страница 88

XXXVIII.

Cornificius, ill is your Catullus,

Ill, ah heaven, a weary weight of anguish,

More more weary with every day, with each hour.

You deny me the least, the very lightest

Help, one whisper of happy thought to cheer me.

Nay, I'm sorrowful. You to slight my passion?

Ah! one word, but a tiny word to cheer me,

Sad as ever a tear Simonidean.