The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 11

by Quintus Horatius Flaccus

XI.

Tu ne quæsieris.

ASK not ('tis forbidden knowledge), what our
⁠destined term of years,
Mine and yours; nor scan the tables of your
⁠Babylonish seers.
Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like
⁠the past,
Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or
⁠this our last;
This, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend
⁠their strength against the shore.
Strain your wine and prove your wisdom; life is
⁠short; should hope be more?
In the moment of our talking, envious time has
⁠ebb'd away.
Seize the present; trust to-morrow e'en as little
⁠as you may.