Lustful tavern and you comrades-in-arms,
the ninth column from the Temple of Castor and Pollux,
do you think that you alone have dicks,
that you alone are permitted to fuck all at once whatever number of girls,
and to think everyone else goats?
Or can it be that because one hundred (or two hundred?)
of you idiots sit in an unbroken line, you do not think
I would dare to make all two hundred of you lazy asses suck my dick!
Know this: I will plaster the exterior
of your entire tavern with drawings of cocks.
Because my girl, who fled my lap,
having been loved as much as no other will ever be loved,
for whom by me great wars were fought,
sits together with them in that place.
This one you fine and well-to-do fellows,
all of you, love, and – which is undeserved indeed –
all small-time thugs and alleyway adulterers;
Above all others, you, one of the long-haireds,
son of your bunny-filled borderlands,
Egnatius, whom a dark beard
and teeth scoured with Spanish piss make a fine gent.

Salax taberna vosque contubernales,
a pilleatis nona fratribus pila,
solis putatis esse mentulas vobis,
solis licere, quidquid est puellarum,
confutuere et putare ceteros hircos?
an, continenter quod sedetis insulsi
centum an ducenti, non putatis ausurum
me una ducentos irrumare sessores?
atqui putate: namque totius vobis
frontem tabernae sopionibus scribam.
puella nam mi, quae meo sinu fugit,
amata tantum quantum amabitur nulla,
pro qua mihi sunt magna bella pugnata,
consedit istic. hanc boni beatique
omnes amatis, et quidem, quod indignum est,
omnes pusilli et semitarii moechi;
tu praeter omnes une de capillatis,
cuniculosae Celtiberiae fili,
Egnati. opaca quem bonum facit barba
et dens Hibera defricatus urina.

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