Not Saint Augustine this week, but a translation of Horace (whose work Augustine would have both learned and taught) by T. A. Noonan. I heard her read it at a poetry reading at Wigle Whiskey hosted by my daughter, Margaret Bashaar.
Although Horace lived and wrote 400 years before Augustine, during the height of the Roman Empire’s power and glory, the poem spoke to me. He writes of a world that was crumbling by the time my book takes place, and, for me, the poem carries in it a whiff or premonition of the decay to come.
Here is the poem: