O my farm, whether Sabine or Tiburtine
(for they say that you're Tiburtine, they for whom it is not pleasing
to harm Catullus; but they for whom it is pleasing
assert that you are Sabine by any wager),
but whether Sabine or more truly Tiburtine,
I was gladly in your suburban villa
and I expelled a bad cough from my chest,
which my stomach gave to me, not undeserving,
while I seek a lavish dinner:
for, while I wish to be a Sestian guest,
I read the speech “Against the Candidate
Antius”, full of poison and pestilence.
At this point, a chilling illness and persistent cough
shook me continually, until I fled to your embrace,
and I restored myself both by leisure and nettle (an herb).
Therefore I, cured, give my highest
thanks to you, because you have not punished my mistake.
So I pray, if I again pick up the malicious
writings of Sestius, that their chill bring an
illness and cough not upon me, but rather upon Sestius himself,
he who invites me only when I have read his bad book.

Ō funde noster seu Sabīne seu Tīburs
(nam tē esse Tīburtem autumant, quibus nōn est
cordī Catullum laedere; at quibus cordī est,
quōvīs Sabīnum pignore esse contendunt),
sed seu Sabīne sīve vērius Tīburs,
fuī libenter in tuā suburbānā
vīllā, malamque pectore expulī tussim,
nōn inmerentī quam mihī meus venter,
dum sumptuōsās appetō, dedit, cēnās.
Nam, Sestiānus dum volo esse convīva,
ōrātiōnem in Antium petītōrem
plēnam venēnī et pestilentiae lēgī.
Hīc mē gravēdō frīgida et frequēns tussis
quassāvit ūsque, dum in tuum sinum fūgī,
et mē recūrāvī ōtiōque et urtīcā.
Quārē refectus maximās tibī grātēs
agō, meum quod nōn es ulta peccātum.
Nec dēprecor iam, sī nefāria scrīpta
Sestī recepsō, quīn gravēdinem et tussim
nōn mī, sed ipsī Sestiō ferat frīgus,
quī tunc vocat mē, cum malum librum lēgī.

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