Şiir 3
What was hated is loved. To die is sweetest. So he spoke, and he bid the slave with the delicate step to kindle the wooden structure. His daughters cried out,
and threw their arms out towards their mother;
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for death is most hateful to mortals when it is right before their eyes. But when the flashing force of terrible fire began to shoot through the wood,
Zeus set a dark rain-cloud over it, and began to quench the golden flame.
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Nothing is unbelievable which is brought about by the gods' ambition. Then Apollo, born on Delos, brought the old man to live among the Hyperboreans,
along with his slender-ankled daughters,
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because of his piety, since of all mortals he sent the greatest gifts to holy Pytho. And of all mortal men who live in Greece, not one, o greatly-praised Hieron, will be willing
to say that he has sent more gold than you to Loxias. Every man who does not fatten himself with envy may praise a warlike man, a lover of horses,
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who has the scepter of Zeus,
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and a share of the violet-haired Muses. once ephemeral you consider; [life is] brief.
But winged hope loosens the wits of ephemeral creatures. Lord Apollo said to the son of Pheres: Being a mortal, you must cultivate twin
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thoughts: that tomorrow will be the last day you see
the sun's light, and that you will complete another fifty years of life deep in wealth. Cheer your spirit with pious deeds, for this is the highest of profits.
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To the thoughtful, what I sing is intelligible. The deep air is undefiled. The water of the sea does not decay. Gold is a delight. It is not lawful for a man to bypass gray
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old age, and recover flourishing youth.
And yet the gleam of a mortal's excellence does not diminish along with the body—no, the Muse nurtures it. Hieron, you
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have displayed to mortals the most beautiful flowers of prosperity.
