Letter 341: You have not yet ceased to be offended with me, and so I tremble as I write. If you have cared, why, my dear sir, do you not write? If you are still offended, a thing alien from any reasonable soul and from your own, why, while you are preaching to others, that they must not keep their anger till sundown, have you kept yours during many suns?
You still haven't forgiven me — I can feel it as I write this, and it makes my hand shake.
If you're no longer upset, then why haven't you written? And if you are still upset — which seems strange for a man of your wisdom and character — consider this: you preach to others that anger must not last past sundown [a reference to Ephesians 4:26], yet you've held onto yours through many sunsets.
Perhaps your plan was to punish me by cutting me off from the sound of your voice? Please, my dear friend — be kind. Let me enjoy that golden tongue of yours again.
Human translation — New Advent (NPNF / ANF series)
Latin / Greek Original
[Πρός: Λιβάνιος Βασιλείῳ]
Οὔπω μοι τῆς λύπης ὑφῆκας, ὥστε με μεταξὺ γράφοντα τρέμειν. ἀλλʼ εἰ μὲν ἀφῆκας, τί οὐκ ἐπιστέλλεις, ὦ ἄριστε; εἰ δὲ ἔτι κατέχεις, ὃ πάσης λογίας ψυχῆς καὶ τῆς σῆς ἐστιν ἀλλότριον, πῶς ἄλλοις κηρύττων μὴ χρῆναι μέχρι δυσμῶν ἡλίου λύπην φυλάττειν, αὐτὸς ἐν πολλοῖς ἡλίοις ἐφύλαξας; ἢ τάχα ζημιῶσαί με προείλου τῆς μελιχρᾶς σου φωνῆς ἀποστερῶν; μὴ σύ γε, ὦ γενναῖε, ἀλλὰ γενοῦ πρᾶος, καὶ δὸς ἀπολαῦσαι τῆς παγχρύσου σου γλώττης.
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