The Love which engages us to eternal Beauties, does not extinguish in us the Love of temporal ones.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

The love which attaches us to eternal beauties does not stifle in us the love of earthly things.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

Our love for the beauty which is eternal, stifles not in us love for that which is fleeting and temporal.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

The love which leads us to eternal beauties does not extinguish in us the love of temporal ones.
[tr. Mathew (1890)]

Our love for the beauty which is eternal does not stifle in us the love for things fleeting.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

Love for the beauty of eternal things
Cannot destroy our love for earthly beauty.
[tr. Page (1909)]

The love which draws us to eternal beauty
Does not exclude the love of temporal things.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

To love eternal beauties far above
Is not to be immune to other love.
[tr. Frame (1967)]

The love that draws us to eternal beauty does not stifle love of this world.
[tr. Steiner (2008)]

The love that binds us to eternal beauties
Does not entirely stifle in us the love of temporal.
[tr. Campbell (2013)]

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
[KJV (1611)]

Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moths and woodworms destroy them and thieves can break in and steal. But store up treasures for yourselves in heaven, where neither moth nor woodworms destroy them and thieves cannot break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
[JB (1966)]

Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moth and woodworm destroy them and thieves can break in and steal. But store up treasures for yourselves in heaven, where neither moth nor woodworm destroys them and thieves cannot break in and steal. For wherever your treasure is, there will your heart be too.
[NJB (1985)]

Stop collecting treasures for your own benefit on earth, where moth and rust eat them and where thieves break in and steal them. Instead, collect treasures for yourselves in heaven, where moth and rust don’t eat them and where thieves don’t break in and steal them. Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
[CEB (2011)]

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

"I don't want to die now!" he yelled. "I've still got a headache! I don't want to go to heaven with a headache, I'd be all cross and wouldn't enjoy it!"

Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to D---, and preached in the cathedral. The subject of his sermon was charity, and he treated it very eloquently. He called upon the rich to give alms to the poor, if they would escape the tortures of hell, which he pictured in the most fearful colours, and enter that paradise which he painted as so desirable and inviting. There was a retired merchant of wealth in the audience, a little given to usury, M. Geborand, who had accumulated an estate of two millions in the manufacture of coarse cloths and serges. Never, in the whole course of his life, had M. Geborand given alms to the unfortunate ; but from the date of this sermon it was noticed that he gave regularly, every Sunday, a penny to the old beggar women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. The bishop chanced to see him one day, as he was performing this act of charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, “See Monsieur Geborand, buying a pennyworth of paradise.”
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

During one Lent a young vicar came to D.... and preached at the cathedral. He was rather eloquent, and the subject of his sermon was charity. He invited the rich to give to the needy in order to escape hell, which he painted in the most frightful way he could, and reach paradise, which he made desirable and charming. There was among the congregation a rich retired merchant, somewhat of an usurer, who had acquired $400,000 by manufacturing coarse cloths, serges, and caddis. In his whole lifetime M. Géborand had never given alms to a beggar, but after this sermon it was remarked that he gave every Sunday a cent to the old beggars at the cathedral gate. There were six women to share it. One day the bishop saw him bestowing his charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, “Look at M. Géborand buying a bit of paradise for a cent.”
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

In the course of one Lent, a youthful vicar came to Digne, and preached in the cathedral. He was tolerably eloquent. The subject of his sermon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor, in order to avoid hell, which he depicted in the most frightful manner of which he was capable, and to win paradise, which he represented as charming and desirable. Among the audience there was a wealthy retired merchant, who was somewhat of a usurer, named M. Geborand, who had amassed two millions in the manufacture of coarse cloth, serges, and woolen galloons. Never in his whole life had M. Geborand bestowed alms on any poor wretch. After the delivery of that sermon, it was observed that he gave a sou every Sunday to the poor old beggar-women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. One day the Bishop caught sight of him in the act of bestowing this charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, "There is M. Geborand purchasing paradise for a sou."
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to Digne, and preached in the cathedral. The subject of his sermon was charity, and he treated it very eloquently. He called upon the rich to give alms to the poor, if they were to escape the tortures of hell, which he pictured in the most fearful colors, and enter paradise, which he portrayed as desirable and inviting. There was a wealthy retired merchant at the service, somewhat inclined to usury, a M. Geborand, who had accumulated an estate of two million from manufacturing coarse cloth and woolens. Never in all his life had M. Geborand given alms to the unfortunate; but from the day of this sermon it was noticed that regularly every Sunday he gave a penny to the old beggar women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. One day the bishop, seeing him perform this act of charity, said to his sister with a smile, 'There's Monsieur Geborand, buying a pennyworth of paradise."
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]

Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to Digne and preached in the cathedral. He was quite eloquent. The subject of his sermon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor so to as avoid going to hell, which he depicted in the most dreadful terms he could, and to get to parasdise, which he represented as desirable and delightful. Among hsi audience was a somewhat tight-fisted retired wealthy merchant named Monsieur Géborand, who had amassed half a million in the manufacture of coarse cloth, serge, caddis and felt caps. Monsieur Géborand had never in his life been charitable to any poor unfortunate. After that sermon it was noticed he gave one sou every Sunday to the old beggar-women at the cathedral door. They had to share it between six of them. One day the bishop saw him making his donation and said to his sister with a smile, "There's Monsieur Géborand buying one sou's worth of paradise."
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band
Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,
Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise
Were empty as the hollow of one's hand.
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd Ed (1868), # 65; this does not appear in other editions before or after]

Folk say that there is a hell. This is a vain error, in which no trust should be placed, for if there were a hell for lovers and for bibbers of wine, why heaven would be, from to-morrow morn, as empty as the hollow of my hand.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 131]

If wine be an unpardonable sin,
God help Khayyam and his wine-bibbing kin!
If all poor drouthy souls be lodged elsewhere,
Heaven's plains must be as bare as maiden's chin.
[tr. Whinfield (1882), # 33]

Drunkards are doomed to hell, so men declare,
Believe it not, 'tis but a foolish scare;
Heaven will be empty as this hand of mine,
If none who love good drink find entrance there.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 67]

To drain the cup, to hover round the fair,
Can hypocritic arts with these compare?
If all who love and drink are going wrong,
There's many a wight of heaven may well despair!
[tr. Winfield (1883), #381]

With Tales of future pains men threaten me,
They say there is a Hell in store for thee; --
Love, if there is a Hell for all like us,
Their Heaven as empty as my Palm will be.
[tr. Garner (1887), 1.19]

To drink wine and consort with a company of the beautiful
is better than practising the hypocrisy of the zealot;
if the lover and the drunkard are doomed to hell,
then no one will see the face of heaven.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 127]

Better to drink, with fair maids wander free.
Than in deceit to practice piety;
If sots and lovers all in Hell will be.
Then who would wish the face of Heaven to see?
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 425]

Tis better here with Love and Wine to sit
Than to become the zealous hypocrite;
If all who love or drink are doom'd to Hell,
On whom shall Heaven bestow a benefit?
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 127]

Drinking wine and wooing fair ones
Is a better thing than the hypocrisy of fanatics.
If all who drink wine were to go to Hell
No one would then behold Paradise.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 256]

Better to drink and dance with rosy fairs,
Than cheat the folk with doubtful pious wares;
Tho' drunkards, so they say, are doomed to hell,
To go to heaven with cheats who ever cares?
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 10.88]

They say lovers and drunkards go to hell,
A controversial dictum not easy to accept:
If the lover and drunkard are for hell,
Tomorrow Paradise will be empty.
[tr. Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1979), # 87]

Say, what more blissful can the gods bestow,
Than the fond hour that crowns each am'rous vow?
[tr. Nott (1795), # 59]

What god can give, what proud celestial power,
A richer boon than thy connubial hour?
[tr. Lamb (1821)]

What choicer hour sends heaven our life to cheer?
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]

What by the gods to mortals given can match this blissful hour?
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]

When shone an happier hour than thy god-speeded arriving?
[tr. Ellis (1871)]

What better boon can the gods bestow than hour so desirèd?
[tr. Burton (1893)]

What more wished for do the gods give than that happy hour?
[tr. Smithers (1894)]

What is given by the gods more desirable than the fortunate hour?
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]

What hour happier than this glorious hour is given by the Gods?
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]

What gift of heaven excels the wishèd hour?
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]

Can Heaven give a greater boon than this?
[tr. Wright (1926)]

What gift from heaven
greater than this gift from gods to man in a superlative hour of happiness?
[tr. Gregory (1931)]

What gift from heaven surpasses this fortunate hour?
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]

What gift of heaven is more desirable than this happy hour?
[tr. Goold (1983)]

What wished-for hour by the gods is more happily granted?
[tr. Kline (2001)]

What better gift have the gods than this most happy hour?
[tr. Green (2005)]

What is given by the gods more desirable than the fortunate hour?
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]

There are depths in man that go to the lowest hell, and heights that reach the highest heaven, for are not both heaven and hell made out of him, everlasting miracle and mystery that he is.

I have seen descriptions of paradise capable of disgusting all men of right understanding: some represent the happy shades incessantly playing on the flute: others condemn them to the punishment of eternally walking about: others again will have those above to be always musing on their mistresses here below, not thinking a hundred millions of years term long enough to make them lose the relish of these amorous inquietudes.
[tr. Ozell (1760 ed.), # 123]

I have read descriptions of Paradise, capable of disgusting every sensible person. The happy shades, according to the fancy of some, are continually playing on the flute, others condemn them to the punishment of eternally walking about; others in short make those above to be always raving after their mistresses here below, not thinking a hundred millions of years long enough to make them get quit of their amorous inquietudes.
[tr. Floyd (1762), # 125]

I have read descriptions of Paradise that would lead all sensible people to renounce it at once: some persons would have the happy shades play eternally on the flute; others condemn them to the torture of a never ending promenade; others who make them dream in heaven of their mistresses on earth, have expressed their belief that even a hundred millions of years would not be long enough to take from them the zest for amatory excitements.
[tr. Betts (1897), # 125]

I have seen descriptions of paradise that would have made any sensible person reject it. Some would have the joyous shades play incessantly upon the flute; others would condemn them to the torture of an eternal promenade; others, who would have them dream on high of their mistresses down below, have assumed that even in a hundred million years they will not lose their taste for such uneasy affairs.
[tr. Healy (1964), # 125]

I have seen descriptions of paradise that would make any man of sense avid going there. Some say the happy spirits in the afterlife engage in an endless bout of flute playing; others that it is an interminable walking about. Others depict them as endlessly dreaming about their mistresses down here, apparently thinking that a hundred million years is too short a time for us to lose our taste for these amorous adventures.
[tr. MacKenzie (2014)]

In daring drains
I sing, admitted to the lofty fanes,
Fill'd with the Glory of th' Eternal One.
There saw I things beyond Creation's bourne.
Which none who from her flaming bounds return
Can tell, when soaring Thought is launch'd so far
In Being's vast Abyss, that Mem'ry fails.
Nor dares pursue, altho' with crowded sails
She tries the Voyage o'er th' eternal Bar.
But some small remnant of that heav'nly Spoil,
From that strange Voyage won with arduous toil,
To her dear native soil, the Muse shall bear.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 1-3]

In heav’n,
That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,
Witness of things, which to relate again
Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence;
For that, so near approaching its desire
Our intellect is to such depth absorb’d,
That memory cannot follow. Nathless all,
That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm
Could store, shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Cary (1814)]

In heaven, that drinks the deepest of the light,
Was I, and saw what to recount to sense
He knows not how, nor can, who comes from thence;
Because, approaching nearer its desire,
Dives intellect to such a depth profound
That memory fails, and cannot go beyond
In truth of that dominion's power, whate'er
I can find room to treasure in my mind,
Be now the subject in my song enshrined.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

Within that heaven which most his light receives
Was I, and things beheld which to repeat
Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;
Because in drawing near to its desire
Our intellect ingulphs itself so far,
That after it the memory cannot go.
Truly whatever of the holy realm
I had the power to treasure in my mind
Shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

In the heaven which receives most of His light was I, and I beheld things which whoso descends thence has neither knowledge nor power to tell again, seeing that as it draws near to its desire our understanding plunges so deep, that the memory cannot go after it. Howbeit, so much of the holy realm as I could treasure up within my mind shall now be matter for my lay.
[tr. Butler (1885)]

In the sky which most partaketh of his light
Was I, and things I saw, which to repeat
Knows not, and cannot whoe'er leaves that height.
Because approaching to its yearned-for seat
The intellect deep diveth there so long
That memory behind it cannot fleet.
Of what to the holy kingdom doth belong
Which I had power to treasure in my mind,
Truly shall now be subject of my song.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

In the heaven that receives most of its light I have been, and have seen things which he who descends from thereabove neither knows how nor is able to recount; because, drawing near to its own desire, our understanding enters so deep, that the memory cannot follow. Truly whatever of the Holy Realm I could treasure up in my mind shall now be the theme of my song.
[tr. Norton (1892)]

In that heaven which most receiveth of his light, have I been ; and have seen things which whoso descendeth from up there hath nor knowledge nor power to re-tell;
because, as it draweth nigh to its desire, our intellect sinketh so deep, that memory cannot go back upon the track.
Nathless, whatever of the holy realm I had the power to treasure in my memory, shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Wicksteed (1899)]

I was in the heaven that most receives His light and I saw things which he that descends from it has not the knowledge or the power to tell again; for our intellect, drawing near to its desire, sinks so deep that memory cannot follow it. Nevertheless, so much of the holy kingdom as I was able to treasure in my mind shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

In that heaven which partakes most of His light
I have been, and have beheld such things as who
Comes down thence has no wit nor power to write;
Such depth our understanding deepens to
When it draws near unto its longing's home
That memory cannot backward with it go.
Nevertheless what of the blest kingdom
Could in my memory, for its treasure, stray
Shall now the matter of my song become.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

I have been in that Heaven of His most light,
and what I saw, those who descend from there
lack both the knowledge and the power to write.
For as our intellect draws near its goal
it opens to such depths of understanding
as memory cannot plumb within the soul.
Nevertheless, whatever portion time
still leaves me of the treasure of that kingdom
shall now become the subject of my rhyme.
[tr. Ciardi (1970)]

I have been in the heaven that most receives of his light, and have seen things which whoso descends from up there has niehter the knowledge nor the power to relate, because, as draws near to its desire, our intellect enters so deep that memory cannot go back upon the track. Nevertheless, so much of the holy kingdom as I could treasure up in my mind shall now be the matter of my song.
[tr. Singleton (1975)]

I have been in the heaven which takes most of his light,
And I have seen things which cannot be told,
Possibly, by anyone who comes down from up there;
Because, approaching the object of its desires,
Our intellect is so deeply absorbed
That memory cannot follow it all the way.
Nevertheless, what I was able to store up
Of that holy kingdom, in my mind,
Will now be the matter of my poem.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

I was within the heaven that receives more
of His light; and I saw things that he
who from that height descends, forgets or can
not speak; for nearing its desired end,
our intellect sinks into an abyss
so deep that memory fails to follow it.
Nevertheless, as much as I, within
my mind, could treasure of the holy kingdom
shall now become the matter of my song.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1984)]

I have been in His brightest shining heaven
and seen such things that no man, once returned
from there, has wit or skill to tell about;
for when our intellect draws near its goal
and fathoms to the depths of its desire,
the memory is powerless to follow;
but still, as much of Heaven’s holy realm
as I could store and treasure in my mind
shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Musa (1984)]

In the heaven that receives most of his light have I been, and I have seen things that one who comes down from there cannot remember and cannot utter,
for as it draws near to its desire, our intellect goes so deep that the memory cannot follow it.
Nevertheless, as much of the holy kingdom as I was able to treasure up in my mind will now become the matter of my song.
[tr. Durling (2011)]

I have been in that Heaven that knows his light most, and have seen things, which whoever descends from there has neither power, nor knowledge, to relate: because as our intellect draws near to its desire, it reaches such depths that memory cannot go back along the track.
Nevertheless, whatever, of the sacred regions, I had power to treasure in my mind, will now be the subject of my labour.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

High in that sphere which takes from Him most light
I was -- I was! -- and saw things there that no one
who descends knows how or ever can repeat.
For, drawing near to what it most desires,
our intellect so sinks into the deep
no memory can follow it that far.
As much, though, truly of that holy realm
as I could keep as treasure in my mind
will now become the substance of my song.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]

I was in that heaven which receives
more of His light. He who comes down from there
can neither know nor tell what he has seen,
for, drawing near to its desire,
so deeply is our intellect immersed
that memory cannot follow after it.
Nevertheless, as much of the holy kingdom
as I could store as treasure in my mind
shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

And though I saw where most of His brightness falls,
What I have seen cannot be represented
Here, for those who have entered Heaven, and descended,
Have come so close to what our minds desire
They sink far in, and bury their knowledge, their power,
So deep that memory cannot recover
A thing. But I will try, truly, to present
Whatever remains in my mind of that holy kingdom
And make it the substance of this song I will sing.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

I was in the heaven that gets more of its rays
And saw things that those who come down
From on high can’t grasp or else can’t say,
Because nearing what one wants,
Our intellect is so overcome
That our memory is left behind.
Even so, as much of the Holy Kingdom
As my mind could hold on to
Will now be the subject of my song.
[tr. Bang (2021)]