These were the things I hoped my prayers would bring:
some land, a kitchen garden and a spring
that’s always flowing by a house below
a modest stand of trees. The gods bestow
on me far more and better; I am content.
Except to make these blessings permanent,
O son of Maia, I won’t try to gain
by asking more of you. If I refrain
from adding assets by malevolence
or causing losses through my negligence
and waste; if I don’t offer prayers like these:

“O let me own abutting properties
intruding into mine; for they distort
the borders of my farm!”

“O let some sort
of lucky break provide me with a pot
of silver, like that guy who, when he got
his treasure, bought and plowed the very land
on which he labored as a hired hand,
and so became enriched by being tied
to Hercules.”

If I am satisfied,
and grateful for my personal possession ...