Şiir 2
My stupid birthday's here, and I'm supposed
to go away and leave Cerinthus here.
What's better than the city? On the farm,
it's cold and rustic — no place for a girl.
Messalla, uncle, you're thinking of me,
5
but stop it: this is no time for a trip.
Take me away, I'll leave my heart and mind
In Rome: what good's free will? You make the rules.
