in Catullus 58, he says:
Is quam in line 2 adverbial (“how Catullus loves…”) or is it a relative adjective (“which one girl…”)?
What is the intended meaning of glubit? It literally means “to strip the bark off/to peel”, but also can mean “to rob”. The first definitions make sense I guess, as in she is tormenting/aggravating her suitors, but an alley would be a good place to rob someone too so I’m not sure.
“Glubit” I am afraid it is, as the ninenteenth century books would say, vulgar slang. You will have to use your imagination about what branch is getting its bark peeled …
Quam, I think, is a relative adjective. Very loosely paraphrased to sort-of-verse
O Caelius, Lesbia – Lesbia who was mine,
Lesbia, whom Catullus used to love
more than himself and all his dearest friends,
where is she now? She’s in the thoroughfares
or down some narrow passage, with the heirs
of noble Remus, polishing their poles.
Thanks for the help… and the laugh. I really wasn’t prepared for that last line. Truly an Episcopal presentation.
I have another little question now with this nice poem:
I translated this as:
My woman says she wants to wed no one more
than me, not if Jupiter himself should ask.
He says: but what a woman says to a desirous lover,
it is fitting to scribble in the wind and rushing water.
I’m confused by Dicit, the first word in the third sentence. Who is this man/woman (hopefully not his pole)? I am thinking it would be Jupiter, but when does Jupiter say such a thing?
I’d guess the woman. “So she says: but …”
I guess that works, but it seemed a little odd to me that she would warn him about her own feminine nature. It makes sense if you think about it though. 
I don’t think she’s warning him about her feminine nature at all. The last part is his comment. Perhaps it should have a period not a colon. I’d translate almost exactly as you have:
My woman says there’s nobody she’d rather marry than me, not even if Jupiter himself made a proposal. So she says. But what a woman says to an eager lover should be written in wind or rushing water.
(And 58, by the way, though not nice in its vocab is very nice indeed as a poem … and I don’t mean that in a sniggery way at all. This one I find rather dry.)
That makes perfect sense. I like the first one too, but the order in the second one mulier cupido quod dicit amanti just sounds really nice to me. Of course when I said it’s a “nice” poem, I meant I didn’t think it was going to get raunchy 