don Quijote
archivio in linea di produzioni culturali e affini


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.

note: Il testo è tratto dalla poesia omonima di Alfred Tennyson, del 1833