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o-me, Poezja

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O Me! O Life! by Walt WhitmanO 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 morefaithless?)Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle everrenew’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.The Road Not TakenTWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth; 5Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same, 10And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back. 15I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference. 20 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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