SONG OF THE WANDERER By Jose Rizal Dry leaf that flies at random till its 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 shores; and shall find only ice and ruin, perished loves, and graves nothing more. Begone, wanderer! In your own country, a stranger nor and alone! Let the others sing of loving, who are happy but you, begone! Begone, wanderer! Look not behind you nor grieve as you live again. Begone, wanderer: stifle your sorrows! The world laughs at anothers pain.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 03:06:08 +0000
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