I am a broken man/You can't break me: If I cry myself to sleep tonight

October 31, 2010

If I cry myself to sleep tonight

There may be princes amongst men,
accoladed and revered,
But we live amongst kings and angels
who tread softly our hearts
and whisper
'I am a prayer'.

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Nec spe, nec metu

Let other men gather bright gold to themselves and own many acres of well-ploughed soil, let endless worry trouble them, with enemies nearby, and the peals of the war trumpets driving away sleep: let my moderate means lead me to a quiet life, as long as my fireside glows with endless flame.

Let me plant the tender vines at the proper time, tall fruit trees, myself a rustic, with skilled hands:nor let hope fail, but deliver the pile-up fruits, and the rich vintage in overflowing vats, since i worship wherever there's a stump left in the fields, or an old stone at the crossroads, wreathed with flowers: and whatever fruit of mine the new season brings I set as an offering before the god of the fields. --Tibullus cca. 55 BC – 19 BC

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October 31, 2010

If I cry myself to sleep tonight

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