1

In the middle of the night

I stole from my husband's bed

And came to you, soaked with rain.

And now, are we going to

Sit around, and not get down

To business, and not bill and coo,

And love like lovers ought to love?

—translated by Kenneth Rexroth

2

Here it's rose-time again, chick-peas in season,

cabbages, Sosylus, first heads of the year,

fillets of smelt, fresh-salted cheese,

tender and furled up lettuce leaves . . . 

but we don't go way out to the point, Sosylus,

or picnic, as we used to, on the overlook.

Antigenes and Bacchios had the old party spirit,

but today we dump them in their graves.

—translated by Wm. Moebius