A translation will follow this Latin poem.
Cenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me
paucis, si tibi di favent, diebus,
si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam
cenam, non sine candida puella
et vino et sale et omnibus cachinnis.
haec si, inquam, attuleris, venuste noster
cenabis bene; nam tui Catulli
plenus sacculus est aranearum.
sed contra accipies meros amores
seu quid suavius elegantiusve est:
nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae
donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque,
quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis
totum ut te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.
With me you shall eat well, my Fabullus,
If the gods will favor you a day or so,
If you will bring a good and great dinner–
Not without a fair guest, a lady–
Along with wine, the salt of wit, and jest
Of every immoderate kind. And if you bring
These things, my charming friend you shall eat well,
I say. For your Catullus has a full purse
Of fine spider’s webs. But amity
Of a pure kind shall be your recompense–
Or whatever else more sweet or elegant;
For I shall give to you a fragrant perfume,
The ambrosial scent of heaven, a gift divine,
And when you smell it, you will entreat the gods
That they might make you entirely a nose.
A few notes on my translation: I have bowdlerized the text here and there, removing the obscene insinuations. I believe that expurgation has left us with nothing more or less than a charming little poem. My favorite line is probably the last, simply because it’s so bizarre. But I also like line eight (which crosses lines eight and nine in my translation). I have taken special care to preserve the ambiguity here; it is unclear whether Catullus has a purse filled with money but made out of a material like spider’s webs, or if his purse is simply filled with cobwebs, since he is poor. This ambiguity is what makes the whole poem funny and clever. It is rude of him to ask his guest to bring their dinner for the evening, but rude in a charming way. He is not embarrassed either to admit how poor he is to so dear a friend–or else to make fun of how inhospitable a host he is.