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Skribent: Simon
Emne: Re: Mellemrummet
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Hej RM..
Nåh, begynder de grønne fingre så småt at pulsere under solrig fryd, foråret rør’ jo på sig? – Hr. Mis er her helt oppe i skyerne, hvis ikke træerne, når hans bevingede venner aer blidt for trommehinderne, men solen synes jo at synge for enhver, ja måske disse strofer…
’Gonna build a kingdom on this sad old ground,
Gonna build a kingdom all around!
Gonna call it heaven, cause that’s what it’ll be,
A place of beauty, joy and peace for you and me!’
Du husker sikkert filmen ’Døde poeters klub’, en pragtfuld film i øvrigt, den ku’ jeg godt tænke mig at gense, og mon ikke det var digtet af Whitman herunder der fik noget op i drengene, jeg tror det:
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here, Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Gonat & sov pænt..;)
Simon
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