Tuesday, September 19, 2006


A Poem by Palladas

Palladas (Greek Anthology 5.72, tr. Kenneth Rexroth):
This is all the life there is.
It is good enough for me.
Worry won't make another,
Or make this one last longer.
The flesh of man wastes in time.
Today there's wine and dancing.
Today there's flowers and women.
We might as well enjoy them.
Tomorrow — nobody knows.

Τοῦτο βίος, τοῦτ᾽ αὐτό· τρυφὴ βίος. ἔρρετ᾽ ἀνῖαι·
ζωῆς ἀνθρώποις ὀλίγος χρόνος. ἄρτι Λύαιος,
ἄρτι χοροί, στέφανοί τε φιλανθέες, ἄρτι γυναῖκες·
σήμερον ἐσθλὰ πάθω· τὸ γὰρ αὔριον οὐδενὶ δῆλον.
A more literal translation by W.R. Paton:
This is life, and nothing else is; life is delight; away, dull care! Brief are the years of man. To-day wine is ours, and the dance, and flowery wreaths, and women. To-day let me live well; none knows what may be to-morrow.

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