Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all.
I hate and I love, and who can tell me why?
Away with you, water, destruction of wine!
What women say to lovers, you'll agree, One writes on running water or on air.
My mind's sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn't like you if you were the best of women, -or stop loving you, no matter what you do.
To whom do I give my new elegant little book? Cui dono lepidum novum libellum?