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Quadratos sinuat trans agros rivulus errans, Vastaque perspicio fundos ad litora sentit Ut puer, hoc flumen luteum procul aequora miscens Quamquam ingens, tamen est desuper et Liliput.
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Immensamque oculis extendit America terram, Saltat enim medio trans parvas aere nubes,
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Although each poet lies often enough, let him fairly lay down his true loves (as much as he can get away with under a pseudonym, if that’s the safer course?) and thus may he have the strength to endure long nocturnal labours. Who are you talking to anyway? Just to yourself – nor should a chance for joking be neglected. Push on your rhythms forcefully – but don’t take your own stuff too seriously. You should strive to create things fitted to the language. If you like, dress up vernacular songs in some new clothes: but the Muse nevertheless prefers her own fresh material. To this end let him always sing things which are easily understood (or at least not hard) something which the author himself sees clearly is not necessarily quite obvious to people’s differing senses. Yet he should desire to show to others the song born from his desire. But let him first please himself – if no one proffers praise (whether deserved or otherwise), let private joys be prepared let the pure desire of writing push itself on. Why not? To hope for fame is an indication of poetic frenzy. What might the poet’s duty be? If by chance he dares to approach the Latin Muses in today’s voice, let him be bold.