Salax taberna vosque contubernales, a pilleatis nona fratribus pila, solis putatis esse mentulas vobis, solis licere, quidquid est puellarum, confutuere et putere ceteros hircos?
You regulars of the whore-house tavern, nine doors along from the temple of the Capped Brothers, do you think that you alone have cocks, that you alone may screw all the girls, and that the rest of us stink like goats?
final_alignments\Catullus_Poems.json