You should not ask- it is Evil to know-
What to me, What to you
What end the gods will give
Nor to Leveeornoes
nor to the Baby Ionians who divine the numbers.
It is better, whatever will be, I will endure.
But whether many Winters, or if the last is given by Jupiter,
which now beats the stones by the Tyrrhenian Sea,
be sensible, drink wine and think less on long flung hopes in this brief space
While we speak, envious time flees; seize the day, trust as little as possible to the Future
I'll sort references out later, but this was allegedly written to try and get some woman into the sack. Brilliant.
Do you know this? There seems to be a whole thread of poems written for that purpose, especially among the metaphysical crowd. There's this one too. I like what you've found more, though, even if I'm going to be doing some googling for terms. Who's it by?
ReplyDeleteHorace
ReplyDeleteTu ne quaesieris—scire nefas—quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati!
seu plures hiemes, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrhenum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi
spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.
A better translation is:
Do not ask - it is worse to know- what end the gods will give to me or you, nor try babylonian or leuconoe numerology. Rather, whatever comes, endure- whether Jupiter grants many more winters or the one that now beats the cliffs of the Tyrennium Sea is the last. Be wise, drink wine, and trim large hopes to fit a short life. Even while we speak, envious time flees: seize the day, believe as little as possible in the future.