I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.
What a woman says to an eager lover, write it on running water, write it on air.
To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?
It is difficult to lay aside a confirmed passion.
Ah, what is more blessed than to put cares away, when the mind lays by its burden, and tired with labor of far travel we have come to our own home and rest on the couch we longed for? This it is which alone is worth all these toils.
Away with you, water, destruction of wine!