My one great talent lies in making those who wrong me suffer horribly.
Be brave, my heart.
Plant your feet and
square your shoulders
to the enemy. Meet
him among the
Hold your ground. In
victory, do not brag; in
defeat, do not weep.
And by a prudent flight and cunning save
A life which valour could not, from the grave.
A better buckler I can soon regain,
But who can get another life again?
Take the joy and bear the sorrow,
looking past your hopes and fears:
learn to recognize the measured
dance that orders all our years.
I lie here miserable and broken with desire,
pierced through to the bones by the bitterness
of this god-given painful love.
O comrade, this passion makes my limbs limp
and tramples over me.
My Soul, my Soul, all disturbed by sorrows inconsolable,
Bear up, hold out, meet front-on the many foes that rush on you.
Now from this side and now that, enduring all such strife up close,
Never wavering; and should you win, don't openly exult,
Nor, defeated, throw yourself lamenting in a heap at home,
But delight in things that are delightful and, in hard times, grieve
Not too much - appreciate the rhythm that controls men's lives.
These golden matters
Of Gyges and his treasuries
Are no concern of mine.
Jealousy has no power over me,
Nor do I envy a god his work,
And I do not burn to rule.
Such things have no
Fascination for my eyes.
She held a sprig of myrtle she'd picked
and a rose
that pleased her most
of those on the bush
and her long hair shaded her shoulders and back."
Wayward and wildly pounding heart,
There is a girl who lives among us
Who watches you with foolish eyes,
A slender, lovely, graceful girl,
Just budding into supple line,
And you scare her and make her shy.
There are, do you know, so many pleasures
For young men to choose from
Among the skills of the delicious goddess.
Be bold! That's one way
Of getting through life.
So I turn upon her
And point out that,
Faced with the wickedness
Of things, she does not shiver.