sunt igitur Musae, neque amanti tardus Apollo, qus ego fretus amo: Cynthia rara meast! nunc mihi summa licet contingere sidera plantis: sive dies seu nox venerit, illa meast! nec mihi rivalis certos subducet amores: ista meam norit gloria canitiem.
So the Muses do exist, and Apollo is not slow to help a lover: in these as a lover I put my faith: the peerless Cynthia is mine! Now for very joy I can set my feet upon the stars in heaven: come day or night, she is mine! Nor will a rival steal my true love from me: that boast shall prevail when my hair is grey.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book1.json