Puella mea mE nOn amat!. ValE, puella! Catullus obdUrat: poeta puellam nOn amat, fOrmam puellae nOn laudat, puellae rosAs nOn dat, et puellam nOn bAsiat! Ira mea est magna! ObdUrO, mea puella-sed sine tE nOn valeO.
My girl doesn't love me! be well, girl! Catallus is tough: The poet does not love her, he does not praise her beauty, he does not give her roses, and he does not kiss her! My wrath is large! I am strong, my girl-but without you I am not well.