This is the first poem in the collection of Catullus' poetry as we have it. It acts as a dedication, as well as a setting the tone for the rest of the poetry in the ‘book’ (scroll or scrolls) that follows. Catullus is both modest (saying that his poems are “nothings”) and ambitious (hoping that they...
To whom do I dedicate this charming slim volume
Just now polished with dry pumice stone
For you Cornelius, for you were accustomed to think
That my nothings were something
When already at the same time, you alone of Italians
Dared to unfold the whole age in three scrolls,
Learned, by Jupiter, and laborious
For that reason have for yourself whatever this little book is
And whatever you like, oh patron maiden
Let it last firmly for more than one generation