Catullus 7

You inquire, my Lesbia, how many of your kisses

are enough and more than enough for me.

As big a number as the Libyan sand-grains

that lie at asafoetida-bearing Cyrene

between the oracle of sultry Jupiter

and the sacred tomb of old Battus;

or as many stars, when the night is quiet,

see the secret loves of men.

So many kisses for mad Catullus to kiss you

are enough and more than enough, [kisses]

which neither the curious can count

nor an evil tongue bewitch.

Quaeris, quot mihi basiationes

tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.

quam magnus numerus Libyssae harenae

lasarpiciferis iacet Cyrenis

oraclum Iovis inter aestuosi

et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum;

aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,

furtivos hominum vident amores:

tam te basia multa basiare

vesano satis et super Catullo est,

quae nec pernumerare curiosi

possint nec mala fascinare lingua.