Tempus fugit (pronounced as /la-x-classic/) is a Latin phrase, usually translated into English as "time flies". The expression comes from line 284 of book 3 of Virgil's Georgics,[1] where it appears as fugit irreparabile tempus: "it escapes, irretrievable time". The phrase is used in both its Latin and English forms as a proverb that "time's a-wasting".
Tempus fugit is typically employed as an admonition against sloth and procrastination (cf. carpe diem) rather than an argument for licentiousness (cf. "gather ye rosebuds while ye may"); the English form is often merely descriptive: "time flies like the wind", "time flies when you're having fun".
The phrase is a common motto, particularly on sundials and clocks. It also has been used on gravestones.
Some writers have attempted rebuttals: "Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go." by Henry Austin Dobson (1840–1921)."Hêd Amser! / Meddi Na! / Erys Amser / Dyn Â" on sundial at Univ of Bangor, North Wales. says the sundial was commissioned by Sir William Henry Preece, and offers an English equivalent: "Time flies, thou sayest - Nay! Man flies; Time still doth stay." Another English version is: "Time Flies, Say Not So: Time Remains,'Tis Man Must Go."
Bud Powell's composition "Tempus Fugue-it" is a pun on the phrase.
The phrase's full appearance in Virgil's Georgics is:
| Original (Virgil) | Translation (Dryden)[2] | Translation (Rhoades)[3] | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Omne adeo genus in terris hominumque ferarumque | Thus every Creature , and of every Kind , The secret Joys of sweet Coition find : Not only Man's Imperial Race ; . . . | Nay, every race on earth of men, and beasts, | |
| et genus aequoreum, pecudes pictaeque volucres, | . . . but they That wing the liquid Air ; or swim the Sea , Or haunt the Desart , . . . | And ocean-folk, and flocks, and painted birds, | |
| in furias ignemque ruunt: amor omnibus idem. ... | . . . rush into the flame : For Love is Lord of all ; and is in all the same . | Rush to the raging fire: love sways them all. | |
| Sed fugit interea, fugit inreparabile tempus, | But time is lost , which never will renew , | Fast flies meanwhile the irreparable hour, | |
| singula dum capti circumvectamur amore. | While we too far the pleasing Path pursue ; Surveying Nature , with too nice a view . | As point to point our charmed round we trace. |