What spires, what farms are those?

[sovay]

From the Department of What the Hell, Brain, We're Making Fruitcake: Horace's labuntur anni (Odes 2.14) should be translated as "the years give us the slip." I have no idea where this precipitated from. I'm up to my wrists in flour and dried cherries. I was reading J.L. Carr's A Month in the Country (1980) before bed last night, but that only made me think of Housman.

Comments

[sovay]

Yay fruitcake!

It's fun! Even if the finished fruitcake is no longer the stoplight-red and lurid green of past years' maraschino cherries.

...right, that's Eheu fugaces, the one with the really complicated metre. Interesting translation.

Thanks. Of course, the rest of the poem couldn't be bothered to show up. I may stare accusingly at it later.