But there isn't a man on earth so proud,But there isn't a man on earth so proud
But there isn't a man on earth so proud,
40
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;
45
But longing wraps itself around him
2Orchards blossom, the towns bloom,
50
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?
55
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
60
on the curve of a wave.
المقطع الثاني
But there isn't a person alive so proud,
40
So destined for greatness, so confident in his youth, So brave, or so blessed by God, That he never fears what fate has in store. No music comforts him, no rewards, No love for women, no earthly pleasures, Nothing, only the movement of the sea;
45
But desire envelops him
Orchards bloom, the towns flourish,
50
Fields become beautiful as the world renews, and all these remind the willing mind, Ready for journeys, always thinking of traveling on a rising tide. So the summer bird, the cuckoo, sings softly, and our hearts grieve as he calls. Who could understand, in comfortable ignorance, what we endure as the paths of exile stretch endlessly on?
55
And yet my heart drifts away,
My soul travels with the sea, the whales' home, wandering to the farthest reaches of the world, returning hungry with longing, flying alone, shouting, urging me to the open sea, breaking promises
60
on the crest of a wave.
Second section