An ode from Horace

Ode I. 11

HORACE
TRANSLATED BY BURTON RAFFEL

Leucon, no one’s allowed to know his fate,
Not you, not me: don’t ask, don’t hunt for answers
In tea leaves or palms. Be patient with whatever comes.
This could be our last winter, it could be many
More, pounding the Tuscan Sea on these rocks:
Do what you must, be wise, cut your vines
And forget about hope. Time goes running, even
As we talk. Take the present, the future’s no one’s affair.

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Dr Kate

I am a GP in Benbecula, with many interests including patient safety, human factors, and data. I also enjoy cooking, gardening and knitting.

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