DUR YOLCU
Dur yolcu, bilmeden gelip bastığın,
Bu toprak, bir devrin battığı yerdir.
Eğil de kulak ver, bu sessiz yığın,
Bir vatan kalbinin attığı yerdir!.
Bu ıssız, gölgesiz yolun sonunda,
Wanderer
Die Zeit ist abgeflossen, wo mir noch Zufälle begegnen durften; und was könnte jetzt noch zu mir fallen, was nicht schon mein Eigen wäre!
Es kehrt nur zurück, es kommt mir endlich heim - mein eigen Selbst, und was von ihm lange in der Fremde war und zerstreut unter alle Dinge und Zufälle
The time is now past when accidents could befall me; and what could now fall to my lot which would not already be my own!
It returns only, it comes home to me at last - my own Self, and such of it as has been long abroad, and scattered among things and accidents.
Sayfa 122 - Dritter Theil/Wanderer/Bill Chapko
Wally Whitman - Dead Poets Society
o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done,
the ship has weathered 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 ribboned wreaths--for you the shores accrowding,
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 anchored 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.