ingeret hic potus iuvenis maledicta puellae, postmodo quae votis inrita facta velit; nam ferus ille suae plorabit sobrius idem et se iurabit mente fuisse mala.
Here the tipsy lad will heap curses on his lass, such as ere long he will hope and pray may turn to naught. Aye, he who is now so savage with his dear will weep when he is sober, and swear that his wits had gone astray.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json