Tu ne quaesieris - scire nefas! - quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. Ut melius, quidquid erit, pati,
seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrrheneum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi
spem longam reseces; dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.
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Don't ask - it is forbidden to know! - what kind of me, what kind of you
end the gods give, Leuconoe, Babylonian fortune-tellers
don't try. It would be better if you got anything, bear,
will you have more winter, or will Jupiter give you the last one,
which now the rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea are unyielding and
breach. Make your mind, filter the wine, short the time and
abroad hopes cut back; as long as we talk, run away from our envy
years: Take gain of this instant than the less believable tomorrow.