(after Cattulus 48)
Your honeyed eyes, Juventius,
don't make me stop kissing them.
Oh, I would: three hundred thousand times,
never coming to the full edge
of enough, even if our love
grew thicker than ripe corn.
(after Cattulus 48)
Your honeyed eyes, Juventius,
don't make me stop kissing them.
Oh, I would: three hundred thousand times,
never coming to the full edge
of enough, even if our love
grew thicker than ripe corn.
