Maybe every one has a moment during existence of pain and struggle, in which is unknown the reason of our presence on earth.
In those moments I always found my reason in these words:
O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
O me! O life!, by Walt Whitman
Talvolta può capitare di sentirsi fuori luogo: insicuri e senza ragione di vita. In questi momenti ho sempre trovato risposte nelle parole di W. Whitman.
Se serve traduzione ditelo!
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2 commenti:
..grande Walt...
Noi per sempre, dead poet's society
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