Epigrams 3.65 (Martial)

quod spirat tenera malum mordente puella,
quod de Corycio quae uenit aura croco;
uinea quod primis cum floret cana racemis,
gramina quod redolent, quae modo carpsit ouis;
quod myrtus, quod messor Arabs, quod sucina trita,
pallidus Eoo ture quod ignis olet;
gleba quod aestiuo leuiter cum spargitur imbre,
quod madidas nardo passa corona comas:
hoc tua, saeue puer Diadumene, basia fragrant.
quid si tota dares illa sine inuidia?

The scent an apple breathes when a sweet girl bites it,
the scent that from Corycian saffron wafts,
the scent of silver vines with first grapes blooming,
the scent of grass new-cropped by grazing sheep,
of myrtle, Arab harvesters, rubbed amber,
of fire pale with incense of the East,
of earth bedewed by gentle rain in summer,
of garlands worn on tresses drenched with nard;
all these, you cruel boy, perfume your kisses.
What if you gave them all without ill will?