Horace 1.9

I was going by chance on the Sacred Way, just as it is my custom thinking I don't know what of my trifles, totally involved in it. A certain man known to me only by name ran up to me, and with my hand having been seized I say: "How are you, sweetest man of things? Pleasantly, as he is now, and I desire all things, which you want." When he was following closely: "Surely you do not want?" I seize, but that man says: "So that you may have known, we are learned." Here, I say: "You are greater to me because of this." Just now wretched seeking he went to depart quicker, he stopped at times, he said I don't know what into his ear as a boy, when sweat was flowing to his deep ankle. "Oh you, Bolanus, happy in the mind" Quiet he was saying yes, when that man or whatever you please was chattering, he was praising the villages and the city. As I was responding nothing to that man: he says: "wretched you desire to go away; for a long time I see. But it's no use; I shall hold you continuously. I shall pursue you to this place, where the road is now yours." It is not necessary that you are being led around: I want to see a certain man not known to you; he lies down far off across the Tiber near the gardens of Caesar." I have nothing, which I may reveal, and I am not lazy: I shall continuously follow you." I lowered my ears, as a young ass of an uneven mind, when he went under heavy work on his back. That man began: "If I knew myself well, you will make not Viscus and not Varius as a greater friend: for who may be able to write greater verses quicker than me? Who may be able to move more soft limbs? I sing which and Hermogenes may envy it." Here there was a place to be interrupted: "There is the mother for you, they are relatives for you, who is necessary with you safe?" "Anyone is not mine; I composed them all." "Happy ones! Now I remain. Kill me! For sad fate threatens me, with the holy urn of an old woman having been moved, the Sabine woman sang which to the boy: and not harsh poisons kill him, nor the hostile sword kill him, nor pain of his back or cough, nor the slow gout: at the sometime or other the talkative man will consume him. The talkative ones, if he may be wise, he may avoid, together the age will have grown up."

Catullus LXVI

Ovid haunts me again... A golden line on line 13... I recognized it right away!

Latin "post mortem"?

Fascinating... This week's Sunday Buffalo News in the viewpoints section of the paper in an article about the European financial crisis written by Giles B. Bootheway, he writes: "That was until late November 2011 when the financial markets suddenly realized, like most people, they had forgotten their Latin, specifically: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"

I love it when Latin is given a "renaissance" moment... So then for those who read it throughout theBuffalo metro area... Is Latin really a "dead" language? It conveyed the meaning quite nicely... I thought.

Catullus' Poem XXXVII

Oh the grammatical irony of the gender of the word "mentula"... Not sure how to gauge this poem is it sarcastic or is he just trying to be funny?...