Elegy II.XV: The Ring
From Amores, by Ovid

Ring, encircle the finger of my beautiful girl.
Go as a welcome gift to she who cares only for
the giver’s love; may she receive you with a joyous
heart, sliding you immediately over her knuckle.
May the ring fit her finger as well as she fits me;
may your perfect circle slide smooth onto her!
Lucky ring, carried by my lady, and now—
poor me!—I’m jealous of my own tribute.
Oh, If only I could change places with my gift
through Circe’s ancient Aeaeaen magic,
or the magic of old Proteus on Carpathus.
Then I would compel my love to touch her own
nipples and insert her left hand beneath her dress,
and no matter how tight and snug I fit her I would
relax and slip artfully into her miraculous passage.
In order to seal and send secret love letters
I would first wet myself on her lips so the ring’s
jewel isn’t so dry it sticks itself to the wax sealant.
If she tried to store me away in a jewelry box
I would shrink myself and cling tighter to her hand,
refusing to come off her finger. My life, I would
never embarrass you so you wouldn’t want
to carry my slight weight. Wear me while you
bathe your limbs in warm water, and watch
my member rise and grow at the sight of your body.
Even as a ring I would react the way a man does.
But why would I wish such a silly thing?
Go, little gift, and let her see the faith I send with you!

Elegia II.XV
Original Latin Text

Anule, formosae digitum vincture puellae,
    in quo censendum nil nisi dantis amor,
munus eas gratum! te laeta mente receptum
    protinus articulis induat illa suis;
tam bene convenias, quam mecum convenit illi,
    et digitum iusto commodus orbe teras!
Felix, a domina tractaberis, anule, nostra;
    invideo donis iam miser ipse meis.
o utinam fieri subito mea munera possem
    artibus Aeaeae Carpathiive senis!
tunc ego, cum cupiam dominae tetigisse papillas
    et laevam tunicis inseruisse manum,
elabar digito quamvis angustus et haerens,
    inque sinum mira laxus ab arte cadam.
idem ego, ut arcanas possim signare tabellas,
    neve tenax ceram siccaque gemma trahat,
umida formosae tangam prius ora puellae—
    tantum ne signem scripta dolenda mihi.
si dabor ut condar loculis, exire negabo,
    adstringens digitos orbe minore tuos.
non ego dedecori tibi sum, mea vita, futurus,
    quodve tener digitus ferre recuset, onus.
me gere, cum calidis perfundes imbribus artus,
    damnaque sub gemmam fer pereuntis aquae—
sed, puto, te nuda mea membra libidine surgent,
    et peragam partes anulus ille viri.
Inrita quid voveo? parvum proficiscere munus;
    illa datam tecum sentiat esse fidem!