Wretched day of my birth,
I shall greet you sadly,
buried alive in some village,
parted from Cerinthus.
What can be more delightful
than the city? What kind of place
for a girl is a villa, by a cold river
in Arretine fields?
Messalla, you tiresome old watchdog,
will you ever have done with nagging?
Journeys are not always timely!
Even though you may take me away,
you will never dictate to my spirit.
Invisus natalis adest, qui rure molesto
et sine Cerintho tristis agendus erit.
Dulcius urbe quid est? an villa sit apta puellae
atque Arretini frigidus amnis agro?
Iam nimium Messalla mei studiose, quiescas,
non tempestivae, saeve propinque, viae!
Hic animum sensusque meos abducta relinquo,
arbitrio quamvis non sinis esse meo.
(freely translated from the Latin)