Of the Roman prophet Horace, translated into the Little Russian dialect in 1765. It begins thusly: “Otium divos rogat in patenti...” and so forth.—It contains a good approach to a peaceful life.
O heavenly peace of ours!
Where have you hidden yourself from our eyes?
You are beloved by everyone as a rule,
you have divided us to take different paths.
Behind you sails billow in sailing ships,
So that these wings might find you in foreign lands.
They march behind you, tearing cities asunder,
They bomb for a whole century, but will they ever reach you?
It seems sorrow lives more in larger homes,
A small home is more peaceful
if it is filled just with essential things.
Ah, we are never satisfied with anything!
This is the source of all sorrows!
A mind filled with various undertakings,
that is the source of rebellions!
Let us hold back the insatiable spirit!
Enough of tormenting a brief lifetime.
What will a land of glory give us?
You will also be a person.
Sadness flies everywhere to weave its way,
along the earth, along the water,
Faster than any lightning,
this [frightening] demon can find us anywhere.
We will be happy with the way
God made us, driving away sorrow with jest,
Be done with worms eating us,
after all there is a chalice for everyone.
Glorious, for example, are heroes, but they lie killed in the fields.
If someone lives long in peace, he suffers in his old age.
God blessed you with good land, but in an instant it can be gone.
My lot is cast with beggars, for God gave us part of his wisdom.
The End.
“Nihil est ab omni Parte beatum.”
There is a chalice for all people.