No vessel torn to shreds by solid rock
with more repentance ever reached the shore,
nor bird escaping from the outstretched net
did fly more fearfully into the wood;
a lovely nymph with her uncertain foot
never with such affliction or alarm
fled from green meadow, where, hidden from view,
a serpent basked 'neath nature's verdant hood,
as I, O Love, the haughty temperament,
the yellow tresses and the lovely eyes
run fleeing now, my feet no longer bound,
of my foe, whom I celebrate in vain.
Farewell, cruel nymph; with her may you remain,
hard rock, gold net, and happy meadow's ground.
Translated by Alix Ingber