My lord Apollo, single out the guilty ones,and in your customary way, destroy them all.

Passionate love relentlessly twists a chordunder my heart and spreads deep mist on my eyes,stealing the unguarded brains from my head.

Like the Mykonians, Perikles,you drink our unmixed wineand pay for nothing.You broke into this party, uninvited,and act as if among old friends.Your stomach has tricked the brains in your skulland now you are shameless.

As the figtree on its rock feeds many crows,so this simple girl sleeps with strangers.

His penis is swollen like a donkey from Prienetaking his fill of barley.

Many of them, I hope, will be dried upby the sharp rays of the sun in its zenith,by the sun in the time of the Dog Star.

My javelin is good white bread and Ismarian wine.When I find rest on my javelin I drink wine.

O father Zeus, you who control the cosmos,and oversee the actions of man, his criminal and lawful acts,you also judge the arrogance and trial of wild beasts.

Lady, you are much too oldto rub yourself with perfume.