Whenever we make decisions, we often consider both logic and emotion. In Catullus 8, we observe the timeless human struggle between a rational mind that knows it must move on, and an emotional mind that cannot let go of the past:
Latin | English Translation |
---|---|
Miser Catulle, dēsinās ineptīre, | Miserable Catullus, stop being foolish, |
et quod vidēs perīsse perditum dūcās. | And let what you see has perished be considered lost. |
Fulsēre quondam candidī tibī sōlēs, | Bright suns once shone for you, |
cum ventitābās quō puella dūcēbat, | When you would go again and again where the girl led, |
amāta nōbīs quantum amābitur nūlla. | The girl loved by us as no one will ever be loved. |
Ibi illa multa cum iocōsa fīēbant, | There, those many happy moments happened, |
quae tū volēbās nec puella nōlēbat, | What you wanted, and the girl was not unwilling— |
fulsēre vērē candidī tibī sōlēs. | Truly, the bright suns once shone for you. |
Nunc iam illa nōn vult: tū quoque impotēns nōlī, | Now she no longer wants; you, weak as you are, stop wanting. |
nec quae fugit sectāre, nec miser vīve, | Do not chase her as she flees. Do not live in misery. |
sed obstinātā mente perfer, obdūrā. | Endure with a resolute mind. Be strong. |
Valē puella. Iam Catullus obdūrat, | Farewell, girl. Now Catullus is firm, |
nec tē requīret nec rogābit invītam. | He will neither seek you out nor ask you against your will. |
At tū dolēbis, cum rogāberis nūllā. | But you will suffer, when no one seeks you. |
Scelesta, vae tē! quae tibī manet vīta? | Wretched woman, woe to you! What life awaits you now? |
Quis nunc tē adībit? Cui vidēberis bella? | Who will approach you now? Who will think you beautiful? |
Quem nunc amābis? Cuius esse dīcēris? | Whom will you love? Whose will you be called? |
Quem bāsiābis? Cui labella mordēbis? | Whom will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite? |
At tū, Catulle, dēstinātus obdūrā. | But you, Catullus, be resolved and endure. |
While at face value, this passage may seem to simply be a post-breakup monologue of some random dude in the ancient times of Rome, it represents the collective struggle we all face when making decisions: how do we arbitrate when our rational mind is telling us one thing while our emotional mind tells us another?
From the beginning, Catullus attempts to construct a rational order amidst his emotional chaos: “Miser Catulle, dēsinās ineptīre” (“Miserable Catullus, stop being foolish”). He speaks to himself with a logical voice in a stern, almost parental tone. Then, he lists his losses, recounts past joys, and recognizes finality. Yet, even though he tries to maintain composure, his emotional side can’t help but return to the warmth of candidī sōlēs—”bright suns”—of their shared past. Emotion refuses to yield easily to reason.
And then comes a shift as he attempts to assert control again: “nec miser vīve, sed obstinātā mente perfer, obdūrā” (“don’t live in misery, but endure with a resolved mind, be strong”). This embodies the Stoic maxim of fortitudo—strength of mind over passions. Yet, immediately after a moment of resolve, Catullus veers into spite, conjuring up a future of loneliness and rejection for his past lover. This is no longer the voice of reason, but the voice of a hurt soul, trying to reassert himself with petty revenge fantasies.
Only in the final line does Catullus make peace—or at least tries to: “At tū, Catulle, dēstinātus obdūrā” (“But you, Catullus, be resolved and endure”). Here, he ends the waves. After all his fluctuations between grief, nostalgia, anger, and resolve, the poem concludes with an affirmation of self-command. It is a triumph, yes—but a weary one. Reason wins out, but not without a cost.
Perhaps, the most moving part of Catullus 8 for me is not his strength, but his struggle. The last line’s “victory” of the rational mind is neither clean nor complete. But it is willed. The poem does not pretend that healing is painless or quick; rather, it insists that even in pain and volatile emotions, we can choose to endure.
And sometimes, just that is enough.