To go in swimming in the freezing Tiber;
It's lighting up a stove in the middle of August.
While Fortune smiles on you and you're able to,
Stay home in Rome, while praising Samos and Chios
And Rhodes, and so on, as long as they're far away.
Whatever good things the god sees fit to give you,
Take them with thanks; don't think you can save them up
For a rainy day. You want to be able to say
You've lived a happy life. It's reason, good sense,
That takes away your cares; it isn't owning
A house at the shore that has a commanding view.
He only changes his scene, he doesn't change
His mind, who rushes to go abroad. How many
Are busy going elsewhere getting nowhere;
But if you have a healthy attitude,
Then what you're seeking to find can always be found
Right where you are, even in froggy UILlbrae.
i.I4 /
To the Manager of
His
Farm
Manager of my woods and my little estate,
Which restores me to myself and which you scorn,
Although it supports five families and sends
Five worthy heads of household to Vicovaro,
Let's vie with one another to see who's better,
You at clearing brambles from the land,
Or me at clearing brambles from the mind.
Let's see which one of the two is in better shape,
Whether it's Horace himself or his Sabine farm.
Although I have to linger here in Rome
Because of my dear Lamia's care and sorrow,
Grieving as he is for his brother's death,
I long with all my heart and mind to break
