It’s true, Ligia, you’re a feminist
arrow in flight,
a phallus passes among us.
Till Death Do Us Part
To free myself from you
I’ll build an enormous palace;
so many rooms and servants
the whole city will fit inside.
—queen in her labyrinth—
you’ll roam until you are lost.
O my Catullus the night wanderer,
my Catullus the ladies’ man, loved by all,
don’t hurt me further
by promising what will not be…
Against Quintus, my husband, we can do nothing.
So go on,
dress the legs of other women in my stockings.
Translated by Helena Dunsmoor
Poems from De amor y furia: Epigramísticos