nec mea tunc longa spatietur imagine pompa, nec tuba sit fati vana querela mei; nec mihi tunc fulcro sternatur lectus eburno, nec sit in Attalico mors mea nixa toro.
On that day let my cortege not march with a long line of masks, no trumpet be the vain lament of my death; on that day let no bier be spread for me on ivory posts, nor my corpse rest on a couch of cloth-of-gold.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book2.json