On the Nature of Things. Тит Лукреций Кар

Works inward to our senses—so mayst see

           They differ too in elemental shapes.

           Thus unlike forms into one mass combine,

           And things exist by intermixed seed.

           But still 'tmust not be thought that in all ways

           All things can be conjoined; for then wouldst view

           Portents begot about thee every side:

           Hulks of mankind half brute astarting up,

           At times big branches sprouting from man's trunk,

           Limbs of a sea-beast to a land-beast knit,

           And nature along the all-producing earth

           Feeding those dire Chimaeras breathing flame

           From hideous jaws—Of which 'tis simple fact

           That none have been begot; because we see

           All are from fixed seed and fixed dam

           Engendered and so function as to keep

           Throughout their growth their own ancestral type.

           This happens surely by a fixed law:

           For from all food-stuff, when once eaten down,

           Go sundered atoms, suited to each creature,

           Throughout their bodies, and, conjoining there,

           Produce the proper motions; but we see

           How, contrariwise, nature upon the ground

           Throws off those foreign to their frame; and many

           With viewless bodies from their bodies fly,

           By blows impelled—those impotent to join

           To any part, or, when inside, to accord

           And to take on the vital motions there.

           But think not, haply, living forms alone

           Are bound by these laws: they distinguished all.

           For just as all things of creation are,

           In their whole nature, each to each unlike,

           So must their atoms be in shape unlike—

           Not since few only are fashioned of like form,

           But since they all, as general rule, are not

           The same as all. Nay, here in these our verses,

           Elements many, common to many words,

           Thou seest, though yet 'tis needful to confess

           The words and verses differ, each from each,

           Compounded out of different elements—

           Not since few only, as common letters, run

           Through all the words, or no two words are made,

           One and the other, from all like elements,

           But since they all, as general rule, are not

           The same as all. Thus, too, in other things,

           Whilst many germs common to many things

           There are, yet they, combined among themselves,

           Can form new wholes to others quite unlike.

           Thus fairly one may say that humankind,

           The grains, the gladsome trees, are all made up

           Of different atoms. Further, since the seeds

           Are different, difference must there also be

           In intervening spaces, thoroughfares,

           Connections, weights, blows, clashings, motions, all

           Which not alone distinguish living forms,

           But sunder earth's whole ocean from the lands,

           And hold all heaven from the lands away.

ABSENCE OF SECONDARY QUALITIES

           Now come, this wisdom by my sweet toil sought

           Look thou perceive, lest haply thou shouldst guess

           That the white objects shining to thine eyes

           Are gendered of white atoms, or the black

           Of a black seed; or yet believe that aught

           That's steeped in any hue should take its dye

           From bits of matter tinct with hue the same.

           For matter's bodies own no hue the least—

           Or like to objects or, again, unlike.

           But, if percase it seem to thee that mind

           Itself can dart no influence of its own

           Into these bodies, wide thou wand'rest off.

           For since the blind-born, who have ne'er surveyed

           The light of sun, yet recognise by touch

           Things that from birth had ne'er a hue for them,

           'Tis thine to know that bodies can be brought

           No less unto the ken of our minds too,

           Though yet those bodies with no dye be smeared.

           Again, ourselves whatever in the dark

           We touch, the same we do not find to be

           Tinctured with any colour.

                                   Now that here

           I win the argument, I next will teach

           Now, every colour changes, none except,

           And every…

           Which the primordials ought nowise to do.

           Since an immutable somewhat must remain,

           Lest all things utterly be brought to naught.

           For change of anything from out its bounds

           Means instant death of that which was before.

           Wherefore be mindful not to stain with colour

           The seeds of things, lest things return for thee

           All utterly to naught.

                                  But now, if seeds

           Receive no property of colour, and yet

           Be still endowed with variable forms

           From which all kinds of colours they beget

           And vary (by reason that ever it matters much

           With what seeds, and in what positions joined,

           And what the motions that they give and get),

           Forthwith most easily thou mayst devise

           Why what was black of hue an hour ago