| don Quijote | ||
| archivio in linea di produzioni culturali e affini | ||
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Ulysses
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By this still heart, among these crags it's a little profits that an idle king just metes and gives unequal laws to a savage race that hoard and sleep, and feed I've suffer'd greatly enjoyin' all times for always roamin' with a hungry heart far on the plains of windy Troy I've drunk delight of battle with my peers How dull it is to pause to make an end to rust unburnish'd not to shine in use I will drink life to the lees beyond the utmost bound of human thought There lies the port, there gloom the seas my men are old, like me but ready too the rocks begin to hide the lights death closes all, but there's some work we can yet do 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world push off and smite the soundin' furrows, my old friends for my purpose holds to sails beyond the sunset and the bath of all the western stars It may be that the gulf will wash us down it may be we shall see the great Achilles we're strong in will to strive, to seek to find to know and not to yeld 'cause we are alive. |
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| note: | Il testo è tratto dalla poesia omonima di Alfred Tennyson, del 1833 |