Living
Book IX, 412
Translated by W. R. Paton (1916–18) · From The Greek Anthology (Loeb, vol. III, 1917)
It is already the season of the rose, Sosylus, and of ripe chick-peas, and the first cut cabbages, and smelts, and fresh salted cheese, and the tender leaves of curly lettuces. But we do not go up to the pleasaunce or sit on the belvedere, Sosylus, as we used. Yet Antigenes and Bacchius were sporting but yesterday, and to-day we carry them to their graves.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Gadara, Philodemus of. “Book IX, 412.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/philodemus/18/.
Chicago
Gadara, Philodemus of. “Book IX, 412.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/philodemus/18/.
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