The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace
The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace
Translated by John Conington
Horace wrote these satires and letters in the twilight of the Roman Republic, when empire was replacing republic and old certainties were crumbling. Yet nothing in human nature has changed since. Here is a poet who observes the universal folly of wanting what we haven't got: the merchant envies the soldier, the soldier envies the merchant, and everyone stares at their neighbor's table with hunger. Horace's genius lies not in bitter criticism but in a wry, generous wit that includes himself in the joke. He chats with his patron Maecenas about everything from dinner parties to the meaning of life, and somehow makes you feel like you're overhearing a conversation that remains urgently relevant. The Ars Poetica, his treatise on writing, shaped Western literature for two millennia because it captures something true about how art works: that a poem should please and teach at once, that the poet's ear matters more than rules. This is Horace at his most intimate and most enduring.
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“Koken e njeriut sikur mbi qafe t'ia ngjiste kalit piktoridhe gjymtyreve te mbledhura gjithandej t'ua shartontepuplat e larme asisoj qe gruaja lart mbi bel, fort e bukur,te shnderrohej ne nje peshk te shemtuar e te perhime, ju te ftuar per te pare, o miq te mi, a do te permbaheni se qeshuri?Me besoni, o Pizone, se krejt i ngjashem do te ishte ne pamje edhe libri, kur si ne jermim te te semurit, te perfytyroheshinfigurat fantastike, qe as koka, as kemba asnje trupi s'do ti pergjigjeshin. "Piktoret, ashtu edhe poetet, kane pasur te njejten mundesi qe me guxim te krijonin cdo gje.””
— Horace
“Ut pictura, poesis: erit, quae, si propius stes,Te capiat magis, et quaedam, si longius abstes:Haec amat obscurum: volet haec sub luce videri,Iudicis argutum quae non formidat acumen:Haec placuit semel, haec decies repetita placebit.Poezia i perngjet piktures: njera te terheq me tepernga afer, kurse tjetra prej se largu;kjo e do erresiren, ajo do te shikohet ne drite,sepse aspak nuk frikesohet nga shikimi i kritikut,njera do te pelqehet nje here, kurse tjetra ne vijim dhjete here.””
— Horace
“Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velumis.Nam neque chorda sonum reddit, quem vult manus et mens,Poscentique gravem persaepe remittit acutum;Nec semper feriet, quodcumque minabitur, arcus.Verum, ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucisOffendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,Aut humana parum cavit natura. Quid ergo est?Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque,Quamvis est monitus, venia caret, et citharoedusRidetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem.Ekzistojne dhe gabimet qe gjithsesi duhen falur; ngase as dora dhe mendja s'e jep perhere tingullin e deshiruar,dhe atij qe kerkon zerin e trashe, ia jep te hollin,e as harku s'e qellon perhere cakun e vendosur pezull.Vertete, kur ne poezine shkelqejne shume gjera, muas'me pengojne njollat e pakta; ato shfaqen nga pakujdesia o nga natyra njerezore. Prandaj cfare duhet bere?Kur si shkrimtari gabon edhe pershkruesidhe pas verejtjes se thene s'kerkon falje fare,ashtu dhe kitaristi do te perqeshet, kur te njejtit tel i bie gabimisht.””
— Horace
“Semis. An haec animos aerugo et cura peculiQuum semel imbuerit, speramus carmina fingiPosse, lindenda cedro et levi servanda cupresso?"Nje gjysme". Ja, kur kjo lakmi dhe kujdes i tepruar ndaj prones, i ka zhveshur shpirtrat, a thua ka shprese se mund te kendohen kenget, qe duhen lyer me vajin e cedrit e duhen ruajtur ne arken e qiparisit?””
— Horace
“Saepe stilum vertas, iterum quae digna legi sint scripturus, neque te ut miretur turba labores.Ktheje penen shpesh, kur te duash gjera te denja te shkruash per t'u lexuar perseri, braktise turmen!””
— Horace
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