ite procul, Musae, si non prodestis amanti; non ego vos, ut sint bella canenda, colo, nec refero Solisque vias et qualis, ubi orbem complevit, versis Luna recurrit equis.
Away, ye Muses, if ye have no aid for the lover; I court you not that I may sing of wars. Nor tell I of the goings of the Sun, nor how when she has accomplished her circuit the Moon wheels her horses and returns.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json