My translation of the short poem Emperor Hadrian supposedly wrote on his deathbed, as recorded in the Historia Augusta:
Animula vagula blandula
hospes comesque corporis,
quae nunc abibis in loca
pallidula rigida nudula?
Nec ut soles dab[i]s iocos!
Small, fleeting, fawning soul,
you stranger and companion
of the body—for what
naked, pallid, unyielding
place do you now depart,
without the humor you used to have?
