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Post by ernesto thaddeus m. solmerano on Jun 12, 2008 18:29:20 GMT -5
The Song of the Traveler by José Rizal (A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Dry leaf that flies at random till it's seized by a wind from above: so lives on earth the wanderer, without north, without soul, without country or love! Anxious, he seeks joy everywhere and joy eludes him and flees, a vain shadow that mocks his yearning and for which he sails the seas. Impelled by a hand invisible, he shall wander from place to place; memories shall keep him company of loved ones, of happy days. A tomb perhaps in the desert, a sweet refuge, he shall discover, by his country and the world forgotten Rest quiet: the torment is over. And they envy the hapless wanderer as across the earth he persists! Ah, they know not of the emptiness in his soul, where no love exists. The pilgrim shall return to his country, shall return perhaps to his shore; and shall find only ice and ruin, perished loves, and gravesnothing more. Begone, wanderer! In your own country, a stranger now and alone! Let the others sing of loving, who are happybut you, begone! Begone, wanderer! Look not behind you nor grieve as you leave again. Begone, wanderer: stifle your sorrows! the world laughs at another's pain.
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