nam te non viduas iacere noctes nequiquam taciturn, cubile clamat sertis ac Syrio fragrans olivo, pulvinusque peraeque et hic et illic attritus, tremulique quassa lecti argutatio inambulatioque.
For that you are not spending nights on your own the bed, vainly dumb, cries out aloud, perfumed as it is with garlands and Syrian scent, as do the dents right and left on the bolster, and the chattering and shuffling of the rickety bed when shaken.
final_alignments\Catullus_Poems.json