Sunday, September 2, 2012

meditation on death

Nothing retains its form; new shapes from old.
Nature, the great inventor, ceaselessly
contrives. In all creation, be assured,
there is no death—no death, but only change
and innovation; what we people call birth
is but a different new beginning; death
is but to cease to be the same. Perhaps
this may have moved to that and that to this,
yet still the sum of things remains the same.

Ovid, Metamorphoses
translation by A.D. Melville


atloveisaplace said...

wonderful. nothing new under the sun, eh?
thank you for the beauty.