Poems by Martial

Martial 3.44

Occurrit tibi nemo quod libenter,
quod, quacumque venis, fuga est et ingens
circa te, Ligurine, solitudo,
quid sit, scire cupis? Nimis poeta es.
Hoc valde vitium periculosum est.
Non tigris catulis citata raptis,
non dipsas medio perusta sole,
nec sic scorpios improbus timetur.
Nam tantos, rogo, quis ferat labores? Et stanti legis et legis sedenti,
currenti legis et legis cacanti.
In thermas fugio: sonas ad aurem.
Piscinam peto: non licet natare.
Ad cenam propero: tenes euntem.
Ad cenam venio: fugas edentem.
Lassus dormio: suscitas jacentem.
Vis quantum facias mali videre?
Vir justus, probus, innocens timeris. 

Martial 5.34

Hanc tibi, Fronto pater, genetrix Flaccilla, puellam
oscula commendo deliciasque meas,
parvola ne nigras horrescat Erotion umbras
oraque Tartarei prodigiosa canis.
Impletura fuit sextae modo frigora brumae,
vixisset totidem ni minus illa dies. Inter tam veteres ludat lasciva patronos,
et nomen blaeso garriat ore meum.
Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa, nec illi,
terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.

Epigrams

VI, xxxi

You know your wife's playing around 
with your physician, Charidemus, 
but you don't do anything about it. 
My guess is you won't have to wait 
for a fever to carry you off.

XI, lxvi

You're a spy and a blackmailer, 
a forger, a pimp, a pervert, 
and a trainer of gladiators, 
Vacerra. I can't understand 
why you aren't rich.

II, xxxvi

I don't say you should curl your hair, 
but you could comb it. 
I don't say your body should be oiled, 
but you could take a bath. 
You needn't have a eunuch's beard 
or a jailbird's. I don't insist 
upon too much manliness, 
Pannychus, or too little. 
As it is, your legs are hairy 
and your chest is shaggy with bristles, 
but your mind, Pannychus, is bald.