o ego, dum aspicerem dominam, quam fortiter illic versarem valido pingue bidente solum agricolaeque modo curvum sectarer aratrum, dum subigunt steriles arva serenda boves! nec quererer quod sol graciles exureret artus, laederet et teneras pussula rupta manus.
Oh, could I only look on my mistress, how stoutly there with my sturdy hoe would I turn the fertile soil and follow the curved plough as a tiller of the fields, while the barren oxen forced the clods up for the sowing! Nor would I murmur that the sun burned my slender limbs or that broken blisters hurt my delicate hands.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json