sovay has an entertaining post about the uselessness of all existing translations of Catullus 16- in which our poet waxes righteous upon the asses of a couple of his critics. Obviously a number of us felt bound to rise to the challenge.Here's my version. I'm putting it behind a cut because, well, you know... language
Fuck you, Aurelius.
Furius, you can suck my dick.
You think I’m a pussyhound 'cause I write about pussy?
D’oh! I’m an artist. Artists make things up.
And yeah I write about pussy, that’s what poets do-
And my stuff’s good. It’ll give you the horn
Even if you’re pushing ninety.
You think I’m a wimp 'cause I write about kissing?
Fuck you Aurelius
Furius, you can suck my dick!