| ODES - I.11 | OH ASK THOU NOT ... |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | trans. William Ewart Gladstone |
|
Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios tentaris numeros. ut melius, quidquid erit, pati! seu plures hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam, quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare Tyrrhenum, sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero. |
Oh ask thou not, 't is sin to know, what time to me, to thee The gods allot: Chaldean tricks eschew, Leuconoë. How better far to face our fate; be other winters yet Ordained for us by Jove, or this the last, now sternly set To weary out by fronting rocks the angry Tuscan main. True wisdom learn. Decant the wine. Far-reaching schemes restrain. Our time is brief. The niggard hour in chatting, ebbs away; Trust nothing for to-morrow's sun: make harvest of today. |
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