Casta quod enervi cantamus basia libro,
versibus eludit fusca Lycinna meis
et me languiduli vatem vocat Aelia penis
quae Venerem in triviis porticibusque locat.
scilicet exspectant nostrum quoque noscere penem!
parcite turpiculae, mentula nulla mihi est.
nec vobis canto, nec vobis basia figo:
ista legat teneri sponsa rudis pueri,
ista tener sponsus, nondum maturus ad arma
exercet variis quae Venus alma modis.
(Janus Secundus, Ep. 1.24)
Because in my limp book I sing about chaste kisses, dark Lycinna makes fun of my verses, and Aelia calls me the poet of the droopy little penis—Aelia who finds love at the crossroads and under colonnades. No doubt they’re also expecting to get to know my penis. Leave off, you dirty little things! The penis is nothing to me [or ‘I don’t have a penis’]. I do not sing for you, and I do not kiss for you. Let these poems be read by the unexperienced fiancée of a tender boy, or let them be read by the tender boy himself, who is not yet ready for the weapons that gracious Venus assails him with in all sorts of ways. (tr. Alex Wong (1-6); completed by David Bauwens)