My Translation of Horace Ode 11

I had translated this a while ago, and recently exhumed it from my Facebook timeline. Reposted here by popular request (you know who you are). Some poetic liberties were taken, be ye warned.

Don’t ask, don’t seek, don’t long to view
What end for me, what end for you
that deathless gods decreed shall be.
Do not think or wish to try
Babylon’s numbers oft-awry.
Better it is and ever may be
To now endure whatever shall be,
Winters many or never again,
Should Jupiter command the end
That now rubs down Tyrrhenian shores
On the looming pumice stones so coarse.
I say, be wise and strain the wine,
Cut off this hope like a too-long vine,
For while we speak, jealous time will have gone.
Seize the day! Distrusting tomorrow, let us live on.


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