Let us live, darling Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us consider all the rumors of
severe old men to be worth only a penny!
Suns are able to set and rise:
when once the short light has set
one long night must we sleep.
Give to me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then quickly a thousand, then a hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands of kisses,
we will toss them to the haze, lest we know,
or anyone wicked can envy
when it is known that such kisses exist.
Catullus 5 belongs under both "love" and "lust" because it depicts loving someone as an urgent experience that inherently rejects restraint. From “Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,” Catullus frames love as something inseparable from life itself. He dismisses outside judgment by insisting that the “rumores senum severiorum” be valued at “unius assis,” showing that love matters more than both public opinion and money. The poem’s focus on time — “soles occidere et redire possunt” versus the “una nox perpetua” awaiting all humans — acts as the urgency. And the repeated counting of kisses (“da mi basia mille, deinde centum”) emphasizes physical intimacy and reciprocity, hallmarks of Catullus’s love and lust poetry rather than humor, abstract reflection, or philosophical musings.
You ask, Lesbia, how many of your kisses
would be enough or more than enough to satisfy me.
As great as the number of Libyan sand-grains
that lie in silphium-bearing Cyrene,
between the oracle of sultry Jupiter
and the sacred tomb of ancient Battus,
or as many stars as, when night is silent,
see the secret loves of humans:
so many kisses for you to kiss
are enough and more than enough for mad
Catullus,
kisses which neither curious people
are able to count nor an evil tongue curse.
Catullus 7 is tricky, as it seems to balance wholesome love with a touch of sexual voyeurism — thus, it' goes under both "love" and "lust." When Lesbia asks how many kisses will be enough, Catullus answers not with a number but with images of vast abundance: the grains of Libyan sand at silphium-rich Cyrene and the countless stars that witness secret lovers at night. By replacing arithmetic with metaphor, Catullus suggests that love cannot be quantified or satisfied through moderation. At the same time, the reference to “furtivos hominum vident amores” frames their intimacy as private and transgressive, reinforcing love as something that exists outside social surveillance. Even the final insistence that no malicious tongue be able to “fascinare” their kisses implies that love must be protected from envy and external judgment.
Annals of Volusius, shitted papyrus,
Fulfill the vow of my girl.
For to the sacred Cupids and Venuses
She promised, if I were forgiven
and I stopped attacking with evil iambs,
that she would give the most select writing
of the worst poet to the slow god
to be burned with firewood.
And in this way she saw that the worst girl
Wished funnily and charmingly to the gods.
Now, you who were born from the blue ocean,
who dwell in the sacred Idalium and open Urium,
and in Ancona and reedy Cnidus,
and in Amathus and in Golgi,
and in Dyrrachium, shop of the Adriatic,
record this vow to have been accepted and returned,
if it is not uncharming and unwitty.
But you, meanwhile, go into the fire
full of rust and clumsiness,
annals of Volusius, shitted papyrus.
Catullus 36 belongs under “love” because, even though it adopts a mocking and ironic tone, the poem is fundamentally structured around reconciliation with Lesbia and the emotional volatility of their relationship. The poem opens with Lesbia’s vow to Venus, made during a moment of renewed affection, to burn the poems of the poet she once loved most. Catullus twists this promise into a joke by identifying himself as the “pessimus poeta,” turning apparent self-insult into a way of asserting intimacy and shared history. His sarcastic attack on Volusius’s Annales only makes sense in the context of his bond with Lesbia, since the poem’s emotional center is not literary rivalry but the restoration of their affair. Even Venus’s involvement frames their relationship as a love story subject to divine attention, reinforcing its seriousness beneath the humor. Ultimately, Catullus 36 shows love not as idealized devotion but as something sharp, unstable, and self-aware, marking it as love poetry rather than pure invective or satire.
Now spring returns the thawed warmth,
now the raging of the equinoctial sky
subsides with the sweet winds of Zephyrus.
Let the Phrygian plains be abandoned, Catullus,
and the rich land of roasting Nicaea:
let us fly to the famous cities of Asia.
Now, my fluttering soul yearns to explore;
Now my joyful feet are alive with eagerness.
Farewell, dear fellow travellers,
whom, having left home simultaneously,
are carried home by different routes.
Catullus 46 frames travel and renewal as emotional conditions made possible by love’s presence rather than as independent adventures. The poem opens with the coming of spring, when “iam ver egelidos refert tepores” and the dissolving winter invites motion, but this seasonal shift mirrors an internal readiness to return to intimacy. Catullus’s eagerness to leave Bithynia is not driven by curiosity or ambition but by the anticipation of reunion, implicitly with the beloved who gives meaning to his journey. The joyful farewell to his companions emphasizes shared emotion, yet the poem’s energy points forward to the personal connection awaiting him at home. Even nature’s revival functions as a metaphor for emotional reawakening, suggesting that love restores vitality after stagnation. Rather than cataloging travel or friendship for its own sake, Catullus 46 situates movement, anticipation, and joy within the logic of desire and return, placing it in the category of love.
That man, to me, seems equal to a god.
That man, if it's not blasphemous, seems in fact to exceed the gods
Who, sitting across from you, sometimes
Watch and listen to you
laughing sweetly, which seizes
all senses from my wretched being; for as soon as
I saw you, Lesbia, nothing remained
of the voice in my mouth.
But my tongue stiffens — thin flames burn
under my limbs, my ears buzz
with a sound of their own, my eyes are covered
with twin darkness.
Leisure, Catullus, seems to trouble you:
In leisure you become too joyous and too passionate:
Leisure has destroyed kings before
As well as blessed cities.
My personal favorite, Catullus 51 belongs under “love” because it captures the overwhelming power of love at the precise moment it is first felt. Adapted from Sappho, the poem centers on Catullus’s physical and psychological collapse in Lesbia’s presence: his tongue goes numb, a thin flame runs through his limbs, his ears ring, and darkness floods his vision. These sensations present love as a force that seizes the body and overrides the reason Catullus usually possesses. The man who sits opposite Lesbia appears “par deo,” because he can calmly endure what Catullus cannot. The final warning about "otium" reframes this intensity as dangerous precisely because it is born from love’s excess, capable of undoing both kings and cities. The poem’s focus on bodily reaction, jealousy, and loss of self-control aligns it with Catullus’s love poetry rather than philosophical reflection or imitation for its own sake.
Quintia is beautiful to many — to me, she is shining, tall, and erect.
Thus, I concede these individual things.
I reject all of this so-called "beauty." For there is no charm,
Not a single grain of salt in such a big body.
Lesbia is beautiful, she who is most beautiful in all of this
and has stolen all the Venuses from everyone else.
Catullus 86 defines love through exclusivity and emotional truth rather than conventional standards of beauty. Catullus contrasts Quintia, who is widely praised as “formosa,” with Lesbia, whom he claims surpasses all others not in individual features but in total presence: “Lesbia formosa est, quae cum pulcherrima tota est.” Catullus thus asserts that love cannot be reduced to objective criteria or public consensus. His dismissal of Quintia’s reputation highlights how communal judgment fails to capture what actually inspires desire. The poem’s sharp compression mirrors this argument, stripping away ornament to insist that love recognizes something holistic and ineffable. Even in its brevity, Catullus 86 insists that true love privileges personal perception over shared opinion.
No woman can say that she is loved
truly, to such an extent as my Lesbia is loved by me.
There was no treaty with as much trust
as that which was found in my love for you.
Catullus 87 presents love as an absolute moral and emotional commitment rather than, perhaps, fleeting passion (some of his poems do take that stance, though). Catullus claims that no woman has ever been loved as truly as Lesbia has been loved by him, grounding this assertion in fides implicitly sanctioned by the gods. By invoking honesty and divine witness, Catullus elevates his relationship beyond desire into the realm of ethical seriousness, suggesting that love is measured by loyalty and intention rather than just pleasure. The poem’s confidence and simplicity reinforce its claim to singularity: this love is unmatched because it is sincere. Even if the broader Catullan corpus complicates this idea elsewhere, Poem 87 itself articulates love as a binding, near-sacred bond.
Lesbia always talks bitterly of me, and she does not go silent
About me at any time: allow me to perish if Lesbia does not love me.
By what sign? For my signs are just as plentiful: I pray against
her all the time, but allow me to die if I do not love her.
Catullus 92 exposes the persistence of desire even when affection has curdled into bitterness. Catullus notes that Lesbia constantly insults him in public, yet he insists this behavior proves she is still emotionally bound to him. The poem’s logic — that hatred signals attachment rather than indifference — implies love to be something inescapable, capable of surviving contempt and humiliation. By admitting that he, too, both curses and loves her (“odi et amo” in smaller form), Catullus frames love as internally contradictory rather than idealized. The brevity of the poem intensifies this tension, leaving no space between affection and resentment. Rather than satire or mere invective, Catullus 92 portrays love as an obsessive bond that endures even in its most corrosive form, justifying its placement in the love category.