Judul : Horace: Ode for Miranda (From Latin)
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Horace: Ode for Miranda (From Latin)
Ode for Miranda
By Horace (Ode 1.11)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original in Latin
Don't ask (we're not to know) what end, Miranda,
the gods intend for you, for me; nor squander
your mind with horoscopes. Do better: let
what will be, be. Jove may grant winters yet
or deem this year's your last that wears the wide
Tyrrhenian sea out on the brawny side
of cliffs. Be wise: have wine and prune the bough
of long hopes to short minutes. Even now
as we speak here, devouring time speeds on.
Harvest this day and take no stock in dawn.
Many thanks to: Geoffrey Brock for giving a draft a well-needed thrashing, to Jean Migrenne for fixing an embarrassing problem of geography and to David Wray for advice on prosody.
The Original:
Tū nē quaesieris (scīre nefās) quem mihi quem tibi
fīnem dī dederint, Leuconoē, nec Babylōniōs
temptāris numerōs. Ut melius, quidquid erit, patī!
Seu plūrēs hiemēs, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositīs dēbilitat pūmicibus mare
Tyrrhēnum: sapiās, vīna liquēs et spatiō brevī
spem longam resecēs. Dum loquimur, fūgerit invida
aetās: carpe diem, quam minimum crēdula posterō.
By Horace (Ode 1.11)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original in Latin
Don't ask (we're not to know) what end, Miranda,
the gods intend for you, for me; nor squander
your mind with horoscopes. Do better: let
what will be, be. Jove may grant winters yet
or deem this year's your last that wears the wide
Tyrrhenian sea out on the brawny side
of cliffs. Be wise: have wine and prune the bough
of long hopes to short minutes. Even now
as we speak here, devouring time speeds on.
Harvest this day and take no stock in dawn.
Many thanks to: Geoffrey Brock for giving a draft a well-needed thrashing, to Jean Migrenne for fixing an embarrassing problem of geography and to David Wray for advice on prosody.
The Original:
Tū nē quaesieris (scīre nefās) quem mihi quem tibi
fīnem dī dederint, Leuconoē, nec Babylōniōs
temptāris numerōs. Ut melius, quidquid erit, patī!
Seu plūrēs hiemēs, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositīs dēbilitat pūmicibus mare
Tyrrhēnum: sapiās, vīna liquēs et spatiō brevī
spem longam resecēs. Dum loquimur, fūgerit invida
aetās: carpe diem, quam minimum crēdula posterō.
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