Publius Ovidius Naso (Classical Latin: [ˈpʊb.li.ʊs ɔˈwɪ.di.ʊs ˈnaː.soː]; 20 March 43 BC – AD 17/18), known as Ovid (/ˈɒvɪd/) in the English-speaking world, was a Roman poet who lived during the reign of Augustus. He was a contemporary of the older Virgil and Horace with whom he is often ranked as one of the three canonical poets of Latin literature. The Imperial scholar Quintilian considered him the last of the Latin love elegists. He enjoyed enormous popularity, but, in one of the mysteries of literary history, he was sent by Augustus into exile in a remote province on the Black Sea, where he remained until his death. Ovid himself attributes his exile to carmen et error, "a poem and a mistake", but his discretion in discussing the causes has resulted in much speculation among scholars.
The first major Roman poet to begin his career during the reign of Augustus, Ovid is today best known for the Metamorphoses, a 15-book continuous mythological narrative written in the meter of epic, and for collections of love poetry in elegiac couplets, especially the Amores ("Love Affairs") and Ars Amatoria ("The Art of Love"). His poetry was much imitated during Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, and greatly influenced Western art and literature. The Metamorphoses remains one of the most important sources of classical mythology.
Ovid is a crater on Mercury. It has a diameter of 44 kilometers. Its name was adopted by the International Astronomical Union in 1976. Ovid is named for the Roman poet Ovid, who lived from 43 BCE to 17 CE.
Ovid or Ovidius (43 BC–17 AD) was a Roman poet. His name is used as a male first name, especially in Romance languages, often in variations such as Ovidi, Ovídio, Ovidio, or Ouvidu, and in some recent usage shortened to Ovi. It may refer to:
High flying, adored
So young, the instant queen
A rich, beautiful thing
Of all the talents
Across between
A fantasy of the bedroom
And a saint
You were just a backstreet girl
Hustling and fighting
Scratching and biting
High flying, adored
Did you believe
In your wildest moments
All this would be yours
That you'd become
The lady of them all?
Were there stars in your eyes
When you crawled in at night
From the bars, from the sidewalks
From the gutter-the-atrical?
Don't look down
It's a long, long way to fall
High flying, adored
What happens now?
Where do you go from here?
For someone on top of the world
The view is not exactly clear
A shame you did it all
At twentysix
There are no mysteries now
Nothing can thrill you
No one fulfill you
High flying, adored
I hope you come to terms with burden
So famous, so easily
So soon is not the wisest thing to be
You won't care if they love you
It's been done before
You'll despair if they hate you
You'll be drained of all energy
All the young who've made it
Would agree
High flying, adored
That's good to hear
But unimportant
My story's quite usual:
Local girl makes good
Weds famous man
I was slap in the right place
At the perfect time
Filled a gap - I was lucky
But one thing I say for me
No one else can fill it