Rura colam, frugumque aderit mea Delia custos,
area dum messes sole calente teret,
aut mihi servabit plenis in lintribus uvas
pressaque veloci candida musta pede.
consuescet numerare pecus; consuescet amantis
garrulus in dominae ludere verna sinu.
illa deo sciet agricolae pro vitibus uvam,
pro segete spicas, pro grege ferre dapem.
illa regat cunctos, illi sint omnia curae:
at iuvet in tota me nihil esse domo.
(Tibullus 1.5.21-30)

I’ll live in the country, and while the harvest’s threshed
in the hot sun, my Delia will be there, guarding the crop,
or she’ll watch over the grapes in the brimming troughs
when agile feet trample the gleaming must.
She’ll be used to counting flocks: she’ll be used to a child
babbling, a slave’s, lovingly playing in its mistress’s lap.
She’ll know to offer the country god grapes for the vines
wheat ears for the harvest, food for the flocks.
She’ll rule everyone, all things will be in her care:
and I’ll joy in being nothing in that house.
(tr. Tony Kline)

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