Martiis caelebs quid agam Kalendis,
quid velint flores et acerra turis
plena miraris positusque carbo in
     caespite vivo,

docte sermones utriusque linguae.
voveram dulces epulas et album
Libero caprum prope funeratus
     arboris ictu.

hic dies anno redeunte festus
corticem adstrictum pice dimovebit
amphorae fumum bibere institutae
     consule Tullo.

sume, Maecenas, cyathos amici
sospitis centum et vigiles lucernas
perfer in lucem: procul omnis esto
     clamor et ira.

mitte civilis super urbe curas.
occidit Daci Cotisonis agmen,
Medus infestus sibi luctuosis
     dissidet armis,

servit Hispanae vetus hostis orae
Cantaber, sera domitus catena,
iam Scythae laxo meditantur arcu
     cedere campis.

neglegens, ne qua populus laboret,
parce privatus nimium cavere et
dona praesentis cape laetus horae ac
     linque severa.

What I, a bachelor, am doing on the Martian
Kalends, what mean the flowers, the casket
full of incense, and the embers laid on
fresh-cut turf--

at this you marvel, you versed in the lore of
either tongue! I had vowed to Liber a savoury
feast and a pure-white goat, what time I narrowly
escaped destruction by the falling tree.

This festal day, each time the year revolves,
shall draw a well-pitched cork forth from a
jar set to drink the smoke in Tullus'
consulship.

So drain, Maecenas, a hundred cyathi in
celebration of your friend's escape, and keep
the lamps alight till dawn! Banish far all
angry brawls!

Dismiss the cares of state!
Crushed in the band of Dacian Cotiso; the
hostile Parthians are fighting with each other
in disastrous strife;

our old foe of the Spanish coast, the
Cantabrian, at last in captive chains, is now
our subject. Already the Scythians, with
bows untrung are planning to quit their plains.

Be for the nonce a private citizen, care-free,
and cease to be too much concerned lest in
any way the people suffer! Gladly take the gifts
of the present hour and abandon serious things!