Читать книгу The Satires of Horace - Horace - Страница 9

Satire 1

Tell me, Maecenas, why no one's content

with either what they've done or fate has sent,

yet they applaud men taking other trails.

“O lucky businessmen!”

the soldier wails,

his body weighted down by age and shattered, 5

yet whenever southern winds have battered

his boat, a businessman will surely cry,

“Can't beat the army life! Don't you know why?

Two sides will clash, and in a flash you'll see

a sudden death or joyous victory.”10

A lawyer praises every hick with hoe

in hand who knocks at dawn as roosters crow;

that bumpkin hauled to town to pay his debts

swears city living is the best it gets.

To make a comprehensive list you'd need15

a Fabius (or windbags of that breed).

In brief, here's my elusive bottom line:

suppose some deity would give a sign,

then say,

“I'm here because your prayers are granted,

so you, the lawyer, will now be replanted20

as a farmer—you, the soldier, made

into a business mogul. So, now trade!

…C'mon! Get on with it! Why stand so still?”

They would refuse, yet with a little will,

they could rejoice! Why wouldn't it be just25

for Jove, in light of what we have discussed,

to puff his cheeks and angrily declare

he'll never be so quick to hear a prayer?

Of course, I will not slight my criticisms

with jokes, like those who write wry witticisms,30

but can't we laugh when we reveal a truth

like teachers bearing treats who bribe a youth

so that he'll gobble up his ABCs?

So let us set aside frivolities

and face hard facts: that farmer plowing rocks,35

that vet, that merchant no one can outfox,

those sailors boldly crossing every ocean—

they've taken on their burdens with the notion

that because they've saved more than they need,

their golden years are safely guaranteed,40

just like that insect whom they imitate—

the diligent but tiny ant—whose freight

is carted in then stacked up overhead

because its future seems so filled with dread.

Still, when Aquarius darkens the year45

as it begins its turn, the ant stays near

to home (wise creature!) drawing on its stash,

but as for you, no heat or snow, no flash- floods, fires or wars could interrupt your quest for wealth until your hoard exceeds the rest.50

What is the benefit that you create

with gold and silver you accumulate

in vast amounts if you just bury it

while you're alone and scared? You gripe,

“To split

it leaves a measly penny as my fraction.”55

But if you don't, what is your hoard's attraction?

Suppose a hundred thousand sacks of grain

come from your mill. Your stomach would remain

the size of mine; the outcome is the same

that it would be if somehow you became60

a slave whose shoulders hoisted loads of bread—

your idle peers would be no less well-fed.

Moreover, if you live your life aligned

with Nature's laws, what difference can you find

between a hundred acres to be plowed65

and ten times that amount? You cry out loud,

“But I prefer selecting what I please

from giant piles!”

Why praise your granaries

instead of bins if hoarding never offers

an improvement over modest coffers?70

It is as if you needed just a cup

or jug of water, but you summoned up

the gall to say,

“I would prefer you took

my portion from a river, not a brook!”

When savoring what luxuries provide us,75

we're swept downriver by the fierce Aufidus

along with all the flotsam that's nearby,

while he who longs for what can satisfy

his basic needs avoids those waves of mud

and does not perish when these rivers flood.80

But many people, lured by false desire,

will then respond,

“You never can acquire

too much because you are what you possess.”

What do you do with people who profess

such views?

Tell them to wallow in despair85

since that's the lot they chose!

I would compare

them to that Athens miser who, they say,

would mock his neighbor's gossip in this way:

“The peons always hiss, but when I see

my trunks of coins I shout, ‘Hooray for me!’”90

Dry-throated Tantalus just misses streams

that tease his lips—why do you laugh? It seems

that trading names would tell your story too.

You snore with moneybags surrounding you

and treat them with religious veneration95

or an art collector's fascination!

Don't you realize what your money means,

what use it serves? Go purchase bread, some greens,

a bit of wine, and any other stuff

that worries people when there's not enough.100

To lie awake half-comatose with fear

because bloodthirsty robbers might be near,

or flames, or slaves who try to rob you blind—

is that so great? For that I would not mind

if I remained among the destitute,105

since if you're feeling chills from fever shoot

right through your body, or some injury

is keeping you in bed, who will there be

to sit with you, to get your lotions ready,

to call the doctor when you feel unsteady,110

then ship you back to kids and other kin?

You would recover to your wife's chagrin—

and to your son's. You'll be despised by all,

by people whom you barely can recall:

friends, neighbors, children. Why does it amaze115

you that when you indulge your greedy ways

nobody gives you love you never earned?

Or, when your schemes for winning love were spurned

by family that Nature sent your way,

wouldn't your efforts cause the same dismay120

as if you gave your well-trained mule a crack

at racing stallions at the Campus track?

In short, be cautious as you get ahead,

and when you grow more wealthy, let your dread

of poverty decrease, and when you gain125

what you are seeking, let it ease your pain

so that you won't be like Ummidius,

who was—put bluntly—so cupidinous

he had to guess his count of moneybags

yet was so cheap he dressed in servant's rags.130

Until his final moments he would brood

about his risk of death from lack of food

until Tyndareus' boldest daughter,

a former slavegirl, used her axe for slaughter.

“Exactly what, then, are you urging on us?135

Live like Naevius or Nomentanus?”

You keep on posing opposite extremes!

When I advise against your chintzy schemes,

I'm not suggesting throwing cash around;

there surely is a balance to be found140

between Tanais and the family

by marriage of Visellus. There must be

measure in actions; bounds that do not change

define the moral only in their range.

So I return to where I first began,145

and ask why greed does not allow a man

to be content, and why he has to praise

those taking other paths and mope for days

about the larger udder of a goat

his neighbor prizes, then has to devote150 himself to serial oneupsmanship (though with the unwashed masses he will skip comparisons). In such a competition, a richer fool keeps blocking your position as when the chariots escape the gate155 and thunder forward at a reckless rate; in hot pursuit you'll find some charioteer who doesn't worry who is in the rear. In the same fashion, hardly anyone confesses joy, and then, when life is done,160 says goodbye like a guest who's had his fill. But I have also overstayed, and will not add a word so no one thinks I stole from droopy-eyed Crispinus some dull scroll.