Otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est

They say my day is rife with vacant hours;
that sleep consumes my time beyond its right.
And sloth, I've also heard, my life devours:
black sin, to hear them tell, and vicious blight.
I'd not dispute their unforgiving view,
were not my work the focus of my mind.
And soft the halcyon calm that once I knew
gave way to whirling tumult; storms unkind.
The task of halting time leaves me disheveled
The error of my ways of late I've found.
Many a sun-bleached wall has leisure levelled;
Many his sorrows whom leisure has uncrowned.