Roaming quiet country in broad, open fields,
            We both would watch the constellations play
Their light on vaults of frigid night as stars appeared
            Throughout the quenching of the fading day.
We watched. This poet, when we had no light,
            Would watch it set upon the Romans’ sea
And, ever mindful Mother Earth had made him mortal,
            Supplied us timeless stars in poetry
To give clear warning to the people yet to come
            So no one had to trust the deities.
These holy songs of Heaven that embrace the cosmos
            Were then afflicted with indignities,
And though the wreckage ended up upon our shores,
            Their authorship was narrowly retained.
I couldn’t bear to beg eternal gods or stars
            Afflicting mortals with the preordained,
But, touched by love of virtue that will quickly pass,
            I searched for someone with determination;
A man, I chose a man, a brave and fleeting friend
            Who in my book should want this dedication.
O you who thrive or fall, I’d say, within these pages,
            Though with a name that merits living on:
I send this gift conveyed from western shores to you
            Who followed stars ascending at the dawn.
Come now, accept; that day we join the dead is coming,
            Which gives the dirt our bones as they decay
With spirits destined not to live eternally
            And bonds between dear friends that fade away.