“After we bathe, Prodicê, let’s put on garlands and sip on
Unmixed wine, raising ever larger cups.
The time for rejoicing is brief: old age will slow
Our remaining days, and the final step is death.
Λουσάμενοι, Προδίκη, πυκασώμεθα καὶ τὸν ἄκρατον
ἕλκωμεν κύλικας μείζονας αἰρόμενοι.
βαιὸς ὁ χαιρόντων ἐστὶν βίος• εἶτα τὰ λοιπὰ
γῆρας κωλύσει, καὶ τὸ τέλος θάνατος. “
