Saturday, June 18, 2016

Horace, “Ode I. 11”; "Time"

“Ode I. 11”

“Leucon, no one’s allowed to know his fate, 
Not you, not me: don’t ask, don’t hunt for answers 
In tea leaves or palms. Be patient with whatever comes. 
This could be our last winter, it could be many 
More, pounding the Tuscan Sea on these rocks: 
Do what you must, be wise, cut your vines 
And forget about hope. Time goes running, even 
As we talk. Take the present, the future’s no one’s affair.”

- Horace (65-8 B.C.E.)

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