Ovid, Tristia

Book 1, 1.1--4

Slavitt trs.

Little book, you're off to town without me, wet / behind the ears (your ink is hardly dry). / Enjoy it. I can't go. Papa's not allowed. / But for your old man's sake, a little restraint: no fancy cover tarted up with dyes, no gaudy / title page done up in coloured inks.

Peter Green trs.

Little book --- no, I don't begrudge it you --- you're off to the City / without me, going where your only begetter is banned! / On your way, then --- but penny-plain as befits an exile’s / sad offering, and my present life.