Propertius 4.3

haec Arethusa suo mittit mandata Lycotae, cum totiens absis, si potes esse meus. si qua tamen tibi lecturo pars oblita derit, haec erit e lacrimis facta litura meis:	asdf	‘Arethusa sends this message to her Lycotas: if you can be mine, when you are so often absent. Still, if any part you wish to read is smeared, that blot will have been made by my tears:
aut si qua incerto fallet te littera tractu, signa meae dextrae iam morientis erunt. te modo uiderunt iteratos Bactra per ortus, te modo munito Sericus hostis equo,	asdf	or if any letter puzzles you by its wavering outline, it will be the sign of my now fading hand. A moment ago Bactra in the east saw you again, now the Neuric enemy with their armoured horses,
hibernique Getae, pictoque Britannia curru, ustus et Eoa decolor Indus aqua. haecne marita fides et parce auia noctes, cum rudis urgenti bracchia uicta dedi?	asdf	the wintry Getae and Britain with its painted chariots, and the dark-skinned Indians pounded by the eastern waves. Was this the marriage oath and the night sealed with kisses, when, an innocent, I yielded to the urgency of your conquering arms?
quae mihi deductae fax omen praetulit, illa traxit ab euerso lumina nigra rogo; et Stygio sum sparsa lacu, nec recta capillis uitta data est: nupsi non comitante deo.	asdf	The ill-omened torch, carried before me by those who led, drew its dark light from a ruined pyre: and I was sprinkled with Stygian waters, and the headband was not set right upon my hair: the god of marriage was not my friend.
omnibus heu portis pendent mea noxia uota: texitur haec castris quarta lacerna tuis. occidat, immerita qui carpsit ab arbore uallum et struxit querulas rauca per ossa tubas,	asdf	Oh, my harmful vows hang from every gate: and this is the fourth cloak I weave for your camp. Let him perish who tore a stake from an innocent tree, and made mournful trumpets from shrill horns,
dignior obliquo funem qui torqueat Ocno, aeternusque tuam pascat, aselle, famem! dic mihi, num teneros urit lorica lacertos? num grauis imbellis atterit hasta manus?	asdf	he is more worthy than Ocnus to lean on, and twist the rope, and feed your hunger, mule, to eternity! Tell me, does the breastplate cut your tender shoulders? Does the heavy spear chafe your unwarlike hands?
haec noceant potius, quam dentibus ulla puella det mihi plorandas per tua colla notas! diceris et macie uultum tenuasse: sed opto e desiderio sit color iste meo.	asdf	May they sooner hurt you than some girl’s teeth cause me tears, by marking your neck! They say your face is lean and drawn: but I pray that pallor’s from desire for me.
at mihi cum noctes induxit uesper amaras, si qua relicta iacent, osculor arma tua; tum queror in toto non sidere pallia lecto, lucis et auctores non dare carmen auis.	asdf	While I, when evening leads on the bitter night, kiss the weapons you have left behind. Then I moan by starlight that your cloak doesn’t clothe the bed, and that the birds that bring the dawn don’t sing.
noctibus hibernis castrensia pensa laboro et Tyria in clauos uellera secta tuos; et disco, qua parte fluat uincendus Araxes, quot sine aqua Parthus milia currat equus;	asdf	On winter nights I labour to spin for your campaigns, to cut Tyrian cloth for the sword: and I learn where the Araxes flows that you must conquer, and how many miles a Parthian horse travels without water:
cogor et e tabula pictos ediscere mundos, qualis et haec docti sit positura dei, quae tellus sit lenta gelu, quae putris ab aestu, uentus in Italiam qui bene uela ferat.	asdf	I’m driven to study the world depicted on a map, and learn what kind of position the god set up there, which countries are sluggish with frost, which crumble with heat, which kindly wind will bring your sail to Italy.
assidet una soror, curis et pallida nutrix peierat hiberni temporis esse moras. felix Hippolyte! nuda tulit arma papilla et texit galea barbara molle caput.	asdf	One caring sister sits here, and my pale nurse swears that the winter’s a time of delay. Fortunate Hippolyte! With naked breasts she carried weapons, and barbarously hid her soft hair under a helmet.
Romanis utinam patuissent castra puellis! essem militiae sarcina fida tuae, nec me tardarent Scythiae iuga, cum Paper altas Africus in glaciem frigore nectit aquas.	asdf	If only the Roman camps were open to women! I would have been a loyal burden on your campaign. Scythian hills would not hinder me, where the mighty god turns water to ice with deeper cold.
omnis amor magnus, sed aperto in coniuge maior: hanc Venus, ut uiuat, uentilat ipsa facem. nam mihi quo Poenis ter purpura fulgeat ostris crystallusque meas ornet aquosa manus?	asdf	Every love is powerful, but greater in an acknowledged partner: this fire Venus herself fans into life. Why then should robes of Phoenician purple gleam for me now, or clear crystals decorate my fingers?
omnia surda tacent, rarisque assueta kalendis uix aperit clausos una puella Lares, Claugidos et catulae uox est mihi grata querentis: illa tui partem uindicat una tori.	asdf	Everything’s mute and silent, and the Lares’ closed shrine is barely opened, through custom, by a girl, on the infrequent Calends. The whimpering of the little puppy Craugis is dear to me: she’s the only one to claim your share of the bed.
flore sacella tego, uerbenis compita uelo, et crepat ad ueteres herba Sabina focos. siue in finitimo gemuit stans noctua tigno, seu uoluit tangi parca lucerna mero,	asdf	I roof over the shrines with flowers, cover the crossroads with sacred branches; and the Sabine herb crackles on ancient altars. If the owl hoots perched on a neighbouring beam, or the flickering lamp merits a drop of wine,
illa dies hornis caedem denuntiat agnis, succinctique calent ad noua lucra popae. ne, precor, ascensis tanti sit gloria Bactris, raptaue odorato carbasa lina duci,	asdf	that day proclaims the slaughter of this year’s lambs, and the priests readied, burning for fresh profits. I beg you not to set so much glory in scaling Bactra’s walls, or the plunder of fine linen torn from a perfumed chieftain,
plumbea cum tortae sparguntur pondera fundae, subdolus et uersis increpat arcus equis! sed (tua sic domitis Parthae telluris alumnis pura triumphantis hasta sequatur equos)	asdf	when the lead shot scatters from the twisted sling, and the cunning bow twangs from the wheeling horse! But (when the land of Parthia’s brood are overcome, may the headless spear follow your  triumphant horses)
incorrupta mei conserua foedera lecti! hac ego te sola lege redisse uelim: armaque cum tulero portae uotiua Capenae, subscribam: "saluo grata puella uiro."	asdf	preserve unsullied the pact of our marriage-bed! That is the sole condition on which I’d have you back: And when I’ve carried your votive armour to the Capene Gate, I’ll inscribe there: A GRATEFUL WOMAN’S THANKS FOR HER HUSBAND’S SAFETY.’