Propertius 7

Sunt aliquid Manes: letum non omnia finit, luridaque euictos effugit umbra rogos. Cynthia namque meo uisa est incumbere fulcro, murmur ad extremae nuper humata uiae,	asdf	There are Spirits, of a kind: death does not end it all, and the pale ghost escapes the ruined pyre. For Cynthia, lately buried beside the roadway’s murmur, seemed to lean above my couch,
cum mihi somnus ab exsequiis penderet amoris, et quererer lecti frigida regna mei. eosdem habuit secum quibus est elata capillos, eosdem oculos; lateri uestis adusta fuit,	asdf	when sleep was denied me after love’s interment, and I grieved at the cold kingdom of my bed. The same hair she had, that was borne to the grave, the same eyes: her garment charred against her side:
et solitum digito beryllon adederat ignis, summaque Lethaeus triuerat ora liquor. spirantisque animos et uocem misit: at illi pollicibus fragiles increpuere manus:	asdf	the fire had eaten the beryl ring from her finger, and Lethe’s waters had worn away her lips. She sighed out living breath and speech, but her brittle hands rattled their finger-bones.
"perfide nec cuiquam melior sperande puellae, in te iam uires somnus habere potest? iamne tibi exciderant uigilacis furta Suburae et mea nocturnis trita fenestra dolis?	asdf	‘Faithless man, of whom no girl can hope for better, does sleep already have power over you? Are the tricks of sleepless Subura now forgotten, and my windowsill, worn by nocturnal guile?
per quam demisso quotiens tibi fune pependi, alterna ueniens in tua colla manu! saepe Venus triuio commissa est, pectore mixto fecerunt tepidas pallia nostra uias.	asdf	From which I so often hung on a rope dropped to you, and came to your shoulders, hand over hand. Often we made love at the crossroads, and breast to breast our cloaks made the roadways warm.
foederis heu taciti, cuius fallacia uerba non audituri diripuere Noti. at mihi non oculos quisquam inclamauit euntis: unum impetrassem te reuocante diem:	asdf	Alas for the silent pact whose false words the uncaring South-West Wind has swept away! None cried out at the dying light of my eyes: I’d have won another day if you’d recalled me.
nec crepuit fissa me propter harundine custos, laesit et obiectum tegula curta caput. denique quis nostro curuum te funere uidit, atram quis lacrimis incaluisse togam?	asdf	No watchman shook his split reeds for me: but, jostled, a broken tile cut my face. Who, at the end, saw you bowed at my graveside: who saw your funeral robe hot with tears?
si piguit portas ultra procedere, at illuc iussisses lectum lentius ire meum. cur uentos non ipse rogis, ingrate, petisti? cur nardo flammae non oluere meae?	asdf	If you disliked going beyond the gate, you could have ordered my bier to travel there more slowly. Ungrateful man, why couldn’t you pray for a wind to fan my pyre? Why weren’t my flames redolent of nard?
hoc etiam graue erat, nulla mercede hyacinthos inicere et fracto busta piare cado. Lygdamus uratur ñ candescat lamina uernae - sensi ego, cum insidiis pallida uina bibi	asdf	Was it such an effort, indeed, to scatter cheap hyacinths, or honour my tomb with a shattered jar? Let Lygdamus be branded: let the iron be white-hot for the slave of the house: I knew him when I drank the pale and doctored wine.
at Nomas ñ arcanas tollat uersuta saliuas; dicet damnatas ignea testa manus. quae modo per uilis inspecta est publica noctes, haec nunc aurata cyclade signat humum;	asdf	And crafty Nomas, let her destroy her secret poisons: the burning potsherd will show her guilty hands. She who was open to the common gaze, those worthless nights, now leaves the track of her golden hem on the ground:
et grauiora rependit iniquis pensa quasillis, garrula de facie si qua locuta mea est; nostraque quod Petale tulit ad monumenta coronas, codicis immundi uincula sentit anus;	asdf	and, if a talkative girl speaks of my beauty unjustly, she repays with heavier spinning tasks. Old Petale’s chained to a foul block of wood, for carrying garlands to my tomb:
caeditur et Lalage tortis suspensa capillis, per nomen quoniam est ausa rogare meum. te patiente meae conflauit imaginis aurum, ardente e nostro dotem habitura rogo.	asdf	Lalage is whipped, hung by her entwined hair, since she dared to offer a plea in my name. You’ve let the woman melt down my golden image, so she might have her dowry from my fierce pyre.
non tamen insector, quamuis mereare, Properti: longa mea in libris regna fuere tuis. iuro ego Fatorum nulli reuolubile carmen, tergeminusque canis sic mihi molle sonet,	asdf	Still, though you deserve it, I’ll not criticise you, Propertius, my reign has been a long one in your books. I swear by the incantation of the Fates none may revoke, and may three-headed Cerberus bark gently for me,
me seruasse fidem. si fallo, uipera nostris sibilet in tumulis et super ossa cubet. nam gemina est sedes turpem sortita per amnem, turbaque diuersa remigat omnis aqua.	asdf	that I’ve been faithful, and if I lie, may the vipers hiss on my mound, and lie entwined about my bones. There are two places assigned beyond the foul stream, and the whole crowd of the dead row on opposing currents.
unda Clytaemestrae stuprum uehit altera, Cressae portat mentitae lignea monstra bouis. ecce coronato pars altera rapta phaselo, mulcet ubi Elysias aura beata rosas,	asdf	One carries Clytemnestra’s faithlessness, another the monstrous framework of the lying Cretan cow: see, others swept onwards in a garlanded boat, where sweet airs caress Elysian roses,
qua numerosa fides, quaque aera rotunda Cybebes mitratisque sonant Lydia plectra choris. Andromedeque et Hypermestre sine fraude maritae narrant historiae tempora nota suae:	asdf	where tuneful lutes, where Cybele’s cymbals sound, and turbaned choirs to the Lydian lyre. Andromeda and Hypermestre, blameless wives, tell their story, with accustomed feeling:
haec sua maternis queritur liuere catenis bracchia nec meritas frigida saxa manus; narrat Hypermestre magnum ausas esse sorores, in scelus hoc animum non ualuisse suum.	asdf	the first complains her arms are bruised, with the chains of her mother’s pride, that her hands were un-deserving of the icy rock. Hypermestre tells of her sisters daring, her mind incapable of committing such a crime.
sic mortis lacrimis uitae sancimus amores: celo ego perfidiae crimina multa tuae. sed tibi nunc mandata damus, si forte moueris, si te non totum Chloridos herba tenet:	asdf	So with the tears of death we heal life’s passions: I conceal the many crimes of your unfaithfulness. But now I give this command to you, if perhaps you’re moved, if Chloris’ magic herbs have not quite entranced you:
nutrix in tremulis ne quid desideret annis Parthenie: potuit, nec tibi auara fuit. deliciaeque meae Latris, cui nomen ab usu est, ne speculum dominae porrigat illa nouae.	asdf	don’t let Parthenie, my nurse, lack in her years of weakness: she was known to you, was never greedy with you. And don’t let my lovely Latris, named for her serving role, hold up the mirror to some fresh mistress.
et quoscumque meo fecisti nomine uersus, ure mihi: laudes desine habere meas. pelle hederam tumulo, mihi quae praegnante corymbo mollia contortis alligat ossa comis.	asdf	Then burn whatever verses you made about my name: and cease now to sing my praises. Drive the ivy from my mound that with grasping clusters, and tangled leaves, binds my fragile bones;
ramosis Anio qua pomifer incubat aruis, et numquam Herculeo numine pallet ebur, hic carmen media dignum me scribe columna, sed breue, quod currens uector ab urbe legat:	asdf	where fruitful Anio broods over fields of apple-branches, and ivory is unfading, because of Hercules’ power. Write, on a column’s midst, this verse, worthy of me but brief, so the traveller, hurrying, from the city, might read:
"hic Tiburtina iacet aurea Cynthia terra: accessit ripae laus, Aniene, tuae." nec tu sperne piis uenientia somnia portis: cum pia uenerunt somnia, pondus habent.	asdf	HERE IN TIBUR’S EARTH LIES CYNTHIA THE GOLDEN: ANIO FRESH PRAISE IS ADDED TO YOUR SHORES. And don’t deny the dreams that come through sacred gateways: when sacred dreams come, they carry weight.
nocte uagae ferimur, nox clausas liberat umbras, errat et abiecta Cerberus ipse sera. luce iubent leges Lethaea ad stagna reuerti: nos uehimur, uectum nauta recenset onus.	asdf	By night we suffer, wandering, night frees the imprisoned spirits, and his cage abandoned Cerberus himself strays. At dawn the law demands return to the pools of Lethe: we are borne across, and the ferryman counts the load he’s carried.
nunc te possideant aliae: mox sola tenebo: mecum eris, et mixtis ossibus ossa teram." haec postquam querula mecum sub lite peregit, inter complexus excidit umbra meos.	asdf	Now, let others have you: soon I alone will hold you: you’ll be with me, I’ll wear  away the bone joined with bone.’ After she’d ended, in complaint, her quarrel with me her shadow swiftly slipped from my embrace.