ipse seram teneras maturo tempore vites rusticus et facili grandia poma manu: nec spes destituat sed frugum semper acervos praebeat et pleno pinguia musta lacu.
When the time is ripe, let me plant the tender vines and the stout orchard trees with my own deft hands, a countryman indeed. Nor let hope disappoint me, but ever vouchsafe the heaped-up corn and rich new wine to fill my vat.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json