Once, in eveninig, a few patricians met Near the temple on the Capitol, Not to lay a plot, but just to chat, And, of course, to drink some alcohol. Who, would sober talk to his good friend?! Marc patrician really did not pose, Drank nectar in large amounts and Very soon received knock down dose. Drunk like a horse, perhaps, a little worse, Leaning against an ancient pillar, he said, "Well, dear brothers, I shall soon divorse My estimable matron, swear that! She’s entangled with all poets in Rome And all actors, who just date her, I don’t know where she’s gettiing from Box-tickets to touring gladiators. "Cause", she cries, "such incivility, I shall soon get a hysterical fit!" "Brothers! No ability! With this Fury, I will have to split. (From this right jar now, charge my glass.) No, I can’t withstand her any more. Even slaves ‘re beginning to harass. I’d join a legion, but there’s no war. I should leave her many years ago. With plebeians I got used to drink. And because of this damned virago To the boots my spirits ‘s about to sink. I’ll give her our house in Persia, Let fulfil her cultural desires, And with remaining dad’s sesterces I Still a cute hetaera could acquire. Let this be a little dissolute. But at any rate, she’ll not be mad, She’ll be tender, sweet, and almost mute, Unless something nice is to be said. And with her I shall stop boozing, and Get my health again, and hit the mark..." And returned their homes patricians Slightly envious of drunken Marc.
© Vladimir Gurvich. Translation, 2013