 |
| ( Those are pearls that were his eyes - Look! ) |
Flebes el fenici, mort fa quatre dies,
Oblidà el crit dels gavians, i l'onatge de l'oceà,
I el guany i la pèrdua.
Un corrent submarí
Mormolant prengué els seus ossos. En l'ascens i la caiguda
Passà els estadis de la seva jove vida
Mentre entrava al remolí.
Gentil o jueu!
Tu que menes el timó amb el vent en contra,
Pensa en Flebes, que un dia fou tan bell i tan alt
Com tu ho ets.
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea 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.