LIBER I - XXXVIII THE SIMPLE MYRTLE
Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus)trans. A. S. Kline
Persicos odi, puer, apparatus,
displicent nexae philyra coronae,
mitte sectari, rosa quo locorum
sera moretur.

Simplici myrto nihil adlabores
sedulus, curo: neque te ministrum
dedecet myrtus neque me sub arta
uite bibentem.
My child, how I hate Persian ostentation,
garlands twined around lime-tree bark displease me:
forget your chasing, to find all the places
where late roses fade.

Youíre eager, take care, that nothing enhances
the simple myrtle: itís not only you that
it graces, the servant, but me as I drink,
beneath the dark vine.

Click here 6 for another translation of this poem.

Trans. Copyright © A. S. Kline 2003


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