rura colit nemo, mollescunt colla iuvencis, non humilis curvis purgatur vinea rastris, non falx attenuat frondatorum arboris umbram, non glebam prono convellit vomere taurus, squalida desertis rubigo infertur aratris.
None now tills the lands; the necks of the steers grow soft; no more is the ground of the vineyard cleared with curved rakes; no more does the pruners hook thin the shade of the tree; no more does the ox tear up the soil with downward share; rough rust creeps over the deserted ploughs.
final_alignments\Catullus_Poems.json