Vivamus, mea Lesbia!

Let us live, my Catullus, and love!
Love is something centuries can't halt.
You'll never meet my parents
and I'll never know your faults.
I won't get fat, you won't get old,
because you're dead. We'll drink wine,
and then some more (you know the rest).
We're matched! In face of that, fuck "time."
Your dirty Latin poetry
makes my thighs convulse.
You provide a knowledge transcending the weight of countless centuries stretching infinitely,
I'll provide the pulse.