Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios temptaris numeros. Ut melius, quidquid erit, pati, seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam, quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare Tyrrenum: sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi spem longam reseces. Dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.
Non ti chiedere mai, ché non si può, qual fate the gods have ready for me, for you, leuconoe, or you treat yourself to Babylonian horoscopes. Rather, what will he take it as is. If God will give us many winters, or this will be the last one that throws the sparkling Tyrrhenian against the rocks to break. Wise up, pour me the wine, your wishes rule day by day. As we speak, time already flows rapida.Cogli your time, unless you trust the future.
Horace, Quintus Flaccus, Roman poet,
(Venosa 65 BC - Rome 8 BC) Odes, I, 11.
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