The god pan isn’t dead.

In the disquiet that repose must bring to our lives
When all we do is think of what
We were, and outside
There’s just night.

The only freedom the gods grant us
Is this: to submit

How short a time is the longest life
And our youth in it! Ah Chloe, Chloe,
If I don’t love, don’t drink
And don’t instinctively not think,
The unmovable law weighs on me,
Time’s endless, imposed hour afflict me.

And the useless name that your dead body
Used, like a soul, when alive one earth
Is forgotten. This ode engraves
An anonymous smile.

Rule or keep quiet. Don’t squander yourself,
Giving what you don’t have.
What good is the Caesar you might have been?
Enjoy being the little you are.
The hovel you’re given is a better shelter.
Than the palace you’re owed.

Nothing of nothing remains. And we are nothing.

Calm because I’m unknown,
And myself because I’m calm,
I want to fill my days
With wanting nothing from them.