ille meos numquam patitur requiescere postes, arguta referens carmina blanditia: ianua vel domina penitus crudelior ipsa, quid mihi tam duris clausa taces foribus? cur numquam reserata meos admittis amores, nescia furtivas reddere mota preces? nullane finis erit nostro concessa dolori, turpis et in tepido limine somnus erit? me mediae noctes, me sidera prona iacentem, frigidaque Eoo me dolet aura gelu.
He never allows my portals any respite, as with artful blandishment he repeats his serenade: O door, far crueller even than your mistress herself, why are you silent with your rigid panels shut tight against me? Why are you never unbolted to admit my love, incapable of being stirred and passing on my stealthy prayers? Shall no end be granted to my sufferings, and mine be a shameful sleep on a doorstep scarcely warm? For me, as I lie prostrate, grieve the midnight hours, for me the stars as they set, and for me the chill breeze that comes with the frosty dawn.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book1.json