Phlebas il fenicio, da mezzo mese morto,
scordò il grido dei gabbiani, l'onda gonfia profonda,
il profitto e la perdita.
Sott'acqua una corrente
di sussurri l'ha scalcato. Sorgendo e ricadendo
passò i suoi stadi d'età e giovinezza
entrò nel vortice.
Gentile o Giudeo
tu che giri la ruota e guardi sopravvento
ricordati Phlebas, che come te fu un tempo alto e bello.
* * *
Death By Water
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
Death By Water
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
(T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land" - traduzione mia)
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