Kafić Кафана «Балкан»

  • Začetnik teme Začetnik teme Nina
  • Datum pokretanja Datum pokretanja
Весели спуст - Маглич-Матарушка бања.
FB_IMG_1626160205734.jpg

FB_IMG_1626160074971.jpg

слике преузете:Туристичка организација Краљева.
 
The Roman Centurion Speaks:
A Roman soldier who loves Britain.

Legate, I had the news last night. My cohort’s ordered home By ship to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome. I’ve marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below: Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!
I’ve served in Britain forty years, from Vectis to the Wall I have none other home than this, nor any life at all. Last night I did not understand, but, now the hour draws near That calls me to my native land, I feel that land is here.
Here where men say my name was made, here where my work was done, Here where my dearest dead are laid—my wife—my wife and son; Here where time, custom, grief and toil, age, memory, service, love, Have rooted me in British soil. Ah, how shall I remove?

For me this land, that sea, these airs, those folk and fields suffice. What purple Southern pomp can match our changeful Northern skies, Black with December snows unshed or pearled with August haze, The clanging arch of steel-grey March, or June's long-lighted days?
You’ll follow widening Rhodanus till vine and olive lean Aslant before the sunny breeze that sweeps Nemausus clean To Arelate’s triple gate; but let me linger on, Here where our stiff-necked British oaks confront Euroclydon!
Youll take the old Aurelian Road through shore-descending pines Where, blue as any peacocks neck, the Tyrrhene Ocean shines. Youll go where laurel crowns are won, but will you eer forget Tre scent of hawthorn in the sun, or bracken in the wet?
Let me work here for Britain's sake—at any task you will— A marsh to drain, a road to make or native troops to drill. Some Western camp (I know the Pict) or granite Border keep, Mid seas of heather derelict, where our old messmates sleep.
Legate, I come to you in tears—My cohort ordered home! I’ve served in Britain forty years. What should I do in Rome? Here is my heart, my soul, my mind—the only life I know.— I cannot leave it all behind. Command me not to go!

by Rudyard Kipling

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Roman_Centurion's_Song
 
Prijavite se ili registrujte da biste poslali poruku.

Slične teme

Plavooki Treptač
Zašto voliš da visiš po kafanama umesto da ideš po temama?
2
Odgovora
48
Pregleda
916
Ната Ли
Ната Ли

Back
Top