O funde noster seu Sabine seu Tiburs
(nam te esse Tiburtem autumant, quibus non est
cordi Catullum laedere; at quibus cordi est,
quovis Sabinum pignore esse contendunt),
sed seu Sabine sive verius Tiburs,
fui libenter in tua suburbana
villa, malamque pectore expuli tussim,
non inmerenti quam mihi meus venter,
dum sumptuosas appeto, dedit, cenas.
Nam, Sestianus dum volo esse conuiua,
orationem in Antium petitorem
plenam veneni et pestilentiae legi.
Hic me gravedo frigida et frequens tussis
quassait usque, dum in tuum sinum fugi,
et me recuravi otioque et urtica.
Quare refectus maximas tibi grates
ago, meum quod non es ulta peccatum.
Nec deprecor iam, si nefaria scripta
Sesti recepso, quin gravedinem et tussim
non mihi, sed ipsi Sestio ferat frigus,
qui tunc vocat me, cum malum librum legi.

Country place of mine, whether Sabine or Tiburtine
(for they claim you to be Tiburtine, those who do not feel like
offending Catullus: yet those who like to offend him,
wager anything that you are Sabine),
but whether Sabine or more truly Tiburtine,
I was glad to be at your suburban hearth.
I coughed an awful cough from my chest
which my belly had given me, not undeservingly,
while I was after sumptuous dinners.
For as I wanted to be Sestius's dinner companion
I read a speech full of poison and plague
against the candidate Antius,
At this point a chilling cold and frequent cough shook me
continually until I fled into your bosom
and I restored myself by rest and nettle.
Wherefore, having been restored, I offer you most grateful thanks
because my sin you did not punish.
And now I am quite happy, if I touch the horrible works
of Sestius, that the cold bring a chill and a cough
not to me but to Sestius himself;
he only invites me when I have read a bad book.