The article in TLS is here:
http://www.the-tls.co.uk/this_week/story.aspx?story_id=2111206
Here's West's translation of the poem:
"[You for] the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts
[be zealous,] girls, [and the] clear melodious lyre:
[but my once tender] body old age now
[has seized;] my hair’s turned [white] instead of dark;
my heart’s grown heavy, my knees will not support me,
that once on a time were fleet for the dance as fawns.
This state I oft bemoan; but what’s to do?
Not to grow old, being human, there’s no way.
Tithonus once, the tale was, rose-armed Dawn,
love-smitten, carried off to the world’s end,
handsome and young then, yet in time grey age
o’ertook him, husband of immortal wife."
Deteriorata
Go placidly amid the noise & waste, & remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet & passive persons unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself and heed well their advice even though they be turkeys; know what to kiss and when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right but that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity & disillusionment and despite the changing fortunes of time, there will always be a big future in computer maintenance.
Remember the Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, & mutilate.
Know yourself; if you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you. That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet. Fall not in love therefore; it will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth, birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan; and let not the sands of time get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, call 606-4311; ask for Ken.
Take heart amid the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese; and reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke of the universe; you have no right to be here, and whether you can hear it or not, the universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore make peace with your God whatever you conceive Him to be: Hairy Thunderer or Cosmic Muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises & urban renewal, the world continues to deteriorate. Give up.
Probably sounds better in the original Portugese.
I guess you'd have to be there. I'll wait in the car.
Seems to have lost something in the translation... still isn't as beautiful as Song of Solomon.