A Retired Life

What a life of restful ease! Leaving behind

all the strife and dissension the world hurls,

I flee down the path whose hidden way unfurls

itself to few! We fortunate few are the only true

philosophers who ever lived.

For we are neither twitched by ambition or pride,

or troubled by the wealth of the merchant Moor;

but, far from love and jealousy, upon a mountainside

carpeted with flowers, peopled with untaught birds,

we look down on the worldly poor.

What pleasure does it bring

to be pointed out by boastful strangers as their friend?

Or fly in pursuit of the butterfly wing

of Fame? Or be made breathless by sharp desire

blended with mortal care?

Ah! Mountain, spring, river!

Ah! Secure, delirious, delightful retreat!

My ship almost wrecked on the rapids of life, I shiver

through the ebb of a stormy sea, and turn my feet

to your sweet peace.

I want to live alone, spending the wealth

that God has given me; sleep an untroubled sleep,

unbroken by dreams of hatred, hope or stealth,

and wake into a day where freedom and happiness sweep

scepters into oblivion.

Let those who trust themselves to fragile barques, keep their treasures!

For the masts of any vessel soon crack beneath a tempest, blasting

a clear day into a blind night. Confused cries clamor

up to the heavens. Travelers rival one another in casting

their riches into the sea.

For me, a poor little table set in a rough palisade

is enough. A measured breeze wafts the fragrance of asphodel.

Surrounded by peace and serenity, I serenade

myself, as I recline, crowned with ivy and immortal laurel,

taking my ease in the shade.