See how the laboring overladen trees
Can scarcely bear their burdens any longer.
See how the streams are frozen into the cold.
Bring in the wood and light the fire and open
The fourth-year vintage wine in the Sabine jars.
Oh, Thaliarchus, as for everything else,
Forget tomorrow. Leave it up to the gods.
Once the gods have decided, the winds at sea
Will quiet down, and the sea will quiet down,
And those cypresses and old ash tree will shake
In the storm no longer. Take everything as it comes.
Put down in your books as profit every new day
That Fortune allows you to have. While you're still young,
And while morose old age is far away,
There's love, there are parties, there's dancing and there's music,
There are young people out in the city squares together
As evening comes on, there are whispers of lovers, there's laughter.
Who knew Homer still had some wisdom to share. I have been reading more poetry outloud to M-E she has the soul of a poet. She hates to write long things so this is a great form for her.
She and Whitney headed on the train to Eugene. They have arrived and are in bed already. We will be leaving a week from tomorrow. Excitment builds.
1 comment:
What a great idea. I will keep this in mind with baby granddaughter.
"Morose old age" how evocative, I was watching some older (really older) people today, and morose nails it. Good piece.
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