Below is an excerpt of On the Nature of Things by Lucretius as translated by Ian Johnston. To preview the book in pdf format, you can do so via our "Preview This Book" page here.

For the whole nature of gods, in itself,
must for all time enjoy the utmost peace,
far removed and long cut off from us
and our affairs, and free from any pain,
free from dangers, strong in its own power,
and needing nothing from us—such nature
will not give in to those good things we do                              60
nor will it be moved by our resentment.[4]

And even for you the time will come when,
overpowered by prophets’ horror stories,
you seek to move away from us. No doubt,
they can now make up many dreams for you
which could disturb a life of principle                                        140
and with fear upset all your good fortune—
and rightly so. For if men could perceive
there is a set limit to their troubles,
they would, with some reason, have strength enough
to resist religion and prophets’ threats.
But now, since we must fear that, when we die,
we will be punished for eternity,
there is no means, no possibility,                                                                                        [110]
of fighting back. For people do not know
the nature of the soul—whether it is born                                150
with them, or, by contrast, is inserted
at their birth, whether it perishes with us,
dissolved in death, or whether it visits
the shades of Orcus, his enormous pools,
or whether, as our Ennius said in song,
it sets itself, by divine influence,
in other animals.[10] He first brought back 
from lovely Helicon a wreath of leaves 
that never fades—its fame is spoken of 
by families of men in Italy.                                                             160
And yet after this, Ennius explains, 
setting it down in deathless poetry, 
there truly are regions in Acheron                                                        [120]
where our souls and bodies do not remain,
but only certain phantoms, strangely pale.
From there, he says, in front of him arose
the ghost of always flourishing Homer,
which started to shed salty tears and then
to describe in words the nature of things.

And so we must with proper reasoning                                      170
look into celestial matters—explain
the reasons for the wandering of the sun 
and of the moon, the force which brings about
everything that happens on the earth;
and, in particular, we must employ                                                                                   [130]
keen reasoning, as well, to look into
what makes up the soul, the nature of mind,
and what it is that comes into our minds
and terrifies us when we are awake
and suffering some disease or in deep sleep,                              180
so that we seem to see and hear right there, 
before our eyes, those who have met their deaths,                            
whose bones the earth now holds in its embrace.

I am not unaware how difficult
it is to clarify in Latin verse
obscure matters discovered by the Greeks,
above all since we must deal with many things
employing new words, because our language
is impoverished and the subject new.
But your own excellence and the pleasure                                 190              [140]
I look forward to from your sweet friendship
are prompting me to finish any work,
no matter how demanding, urging me
to stay awake throughout the peaceful night,
seeking words and verse where I can at last
hold up a clear light for your mind, and you
can see into the hidden core of things.

And so this terror, this darkness of mind,
must be dispelled, not by rays from the sun
or bright shafts of daylight, but by reason                                 200
and the face of nature. And we will start
to weave her first principle as follows:
nothing is ever brought forth by the gods                                          [150]
from nothing.[11] That is, of course, how, through fear,
all mortal men are held in check—they view
many things done on earth and in the sky,
effects whose causes they cannot see at all,
and so they assume that such things happen
because of gods. Hence, once we understand
that nothing can be produced from nothing,                           210
then we shall more accurately follow
what we are looking for, how everything 
can be created and all work can be done
without any assistance from the gods.

For if things were made from nothing, each type                              [160]
could be produced from any other thing,
with no seed required. To start with, humans
could spring up from the sea, races of fish
arise from land, and birds burst from the sky;
domestic beasts, other cattle, all kinds                                       220
of savage creatures of uncertain birth
would live in farm land and the wilderness.
The same fruits would not be produced from trees
with no alterations—no, they would change,
and any tree could carry any fruit.
In fact, were there no procreant bodies
for each one, how could anything possess
a fixed and constant mother? But now, because
each object is produced from certain seeds,
it grows out of them and comes to regions                               230
of the light from places in which its stuff,                                                               [170]
the primary elements of each, belongs.
For this reason, it is impossible
for all things to be produced from all things,
since there are in specific substances
powers which make those substances distinct.

And why do we see roses coming out
in spring, grain when it gets hot, and grape vines
ripening under autumn’s influence,
if not because, when certain seeds of things                             240
have fused together at their proper time, 
whatever is created then appears,
while the season favours it, and the earth,
full of life, safely brings out tender things
to regions of the light? But if these things                                          [180]
were made from nothing, then they would spring up
suddenly at random, at strange moments
of the year, because then there would not be
any primal matter which could be checked
from a productive union at a time                                                250
that was unfavourable. And what is more, 
if they could increase in size from nothing,
there would be no need of time for growing
once seeds had joined together. For young men
might suddenly be produced from infants,
and groves of trees might come up from the ground,
arising unexpectedly. These things,
quite obviously, just do not happen—
all things mature gradually [at set times],
as is appropriate, [since they all grow]                                       260
from certain seeds, and as they get bigger,
they maintain their kind, so you can understand                                            [190]
that every individual thing is fed
and grows from its own particular stuff.[12]
And what is more, without seasonal rains
during the year, the earth could not produce 
her delightful fruits; then, too, without food
animal nature could not reproduce
the species and maintain its life. From this,
you can all the more easily believe                                               270
that many things have many elements
in common—just as we see with letters, 
which are the same in many words—rather
than thinking any substance could exist
without its primary matter.[13]

                                                    And further,
why could nature not have created men
so big that they could make their way on foot                                    [200]
across the sea, with their own hands tear down
great mountains, and in life expectancy
outlast many human generations,                                               280
unless the reason is that certain stuff
has been designed to make specific things, 
and that determines what can be produced?  
Therefore, we must acknowledge that nothing
can be produced from nothing, since with things
there is a need for seeds, from which each one
is made and can be brought into the air,
into the gentle winds. And finally,
since we perceive that cultivated lands
are preferable to those left on their own                                    290
and, when worked by hand, yield better produce,
we clearly see that there are in the earth                                                                   [210]
primordial elements of things, which we,
by turning over fertile ground with ploughs,
and taming the land’s soil, stir into birth.
If there were no seeds, you might well observe
that things become much better on their own
without our work. 

                                  To this we can also add 
that nature dissolves all things back again
into their own elements and does not                                        300
turn matter into nothing.[14] If anything
were destined to die, including the parts
of which it is composed, then all matter
would be quickly snatched away before our eyes
and vanish. For no force would be needed
which could bring about the dissolution
of its parts and sever their connection.                                                [220]
As it is now, since everything consists
of ageless seeds, nature does not let us
witness the death of anything, until                                           310
force intervenes to cut it into pieces
with some blow or to penetrate inside, 
through the empty spaces, and dissolve it.
And if time totally destroys those things
it takes away by aging, consuming
all their matter, how does Venus send back
into the light of life those families
of creatures, each according to its kind?
When they are restored, how does artful earth
offer them food, nourish, and strengthen them,                      320
meeting each one’s needs? How do its own springs                          [230]
and distant rivers flowing far and wide
keep the sea supplied? How does the aether
feed the stars?[15] The infinity of time
and days gone by should have destroyed all things
made up of mortal elements. But if
those particles which make up and renew
the total sum of things have been around
though all the ages of those years long past,
then we can be assured they do possess                                      330
an immortal nature. And thus, no things
can be converted back into nothing. 

Indeed, unless some everlasting stuff 
kept substances more or less connected
in a mutual matrix, one common force                                                 [240]
and cause could generally destroy all things,
for then, in fact, a touch would be enough
to kill, as is obvious, if there were
no substance in a body which endured,
if it were linked seeds which any force                                       340
was bound to break apart. But as it is,
since different networks of first elements
combine together and since their substance
endures forever, things continue on,
their bodies unimpaired, until the time
an opposing force with sufficient strength,
a power which can undo their structure,
encounters them. Thus, there is no substance
which is reduced to nothing—but all things,
once dissolved, go back to material stuff.                                   350

Lastly, the rains vanish, when the aether,                                            [250]
our father, has poured them into the lap
of earth, our mother. But then glistening crops 
spring up, the branches on the trees turn green,
and trees themselves grow bigger and become
weighed down with fruit. Moreover, from this rain
our race is fed, as well as those of beasts.
Thus, we see happy cities filled with youth
and leafy woods full of young birds singing
on every side, and fat, weary cattle                                               360
set their bodies down in joyful pastures,
and dazzling white liquid milk flows out
from swollen udders; thus, new offspring play
on unsure limbs, frolic on tender grass,                                                [260]
with fresh milk stirring their young hearts. And so,
what seems to disappear does not all go—
nature renews one thing from another
and does not allow objects to be born
without the help of something else that died.