Poetry Analysis

But there isn't a man on earth so proud,But there isn't a man on earth so proud

Original Poetry

But there isn't a man on earth so proud,

So born to greatness, so bold with his youth, Grown so brave, or so graced by God, That ne reeis no rear as the satisfactory unturi, Wondering what Fate has willed and will do. No harps ring in his heart, no rewards, No passion for women, no worldly pleasures, Nothing, only the ocean's heave;

But longing wraps itself around him

2Orchards blossom, the towns bloom,

Fields grow lovely as the world springs fresh, and all these admonish that willing mind, Leaping to journeys, always set in thoughts traveling on a quickening tide. So summer's sentinel, the cuckoo, sings in his murmuring voice, and our hearts mourn as he urges. Who could understand, in ignorant ease, what we others suffer as the paths of exile stretch endlessly on?

And yet my heart wanders away,

My soul roams with the sea, the whales home, wandering to the widest corners of the world, returning ravenous with desire, flying solitary, screaming, exciting me to the open ocean, breaking oaths

on the curve of a wave.

المقطع الثاني

Translation

But there isn't a person alive who is so proud,

So naturally great, so confident in youth, so brave, or favored by God, That he doesn't fear what fate has planned. No music in his heart, no rewards, No love for women, no earthly pleasures, Nothing, only the ocean's movement;

But longing surrounds him

Orchards bloom, towns flourish,

Fields become beautiful as the world renews, and all these remind the willing mind, Jumping to journeys, always thinking of traveling on a fast-moving tide. So the summer bird, the cuckoo, sings in his soft voice, and our hearts feel sorrow as he calls. Who could understand, in easy ignorance, what we suffer as the paths of exile stretch endlessly on?