Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.
To me the Muses truly gave / An envied and a happy lot: / E'en when I lie within the grave, / I cannot, shall not, be forgot.
Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us
In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.
How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away