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 a-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.
"O
me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless
trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good
amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists,
and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a
verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse.
What will your verse be?
Καλό ταξίδι Φίλε...Θα σε ξαναδώ στο γνώριμο χαμένο "κύκλο"....
