Por Ezequiel Martelletti.
How bold, all this, and how confounding;
That we should stroll through life in such unequal pleasure;
That our thoughts should have no rest, and no master.
Forever lost all time will be, far away in past or future;
The very memories fading in unquiet peace,
The scenes awaiting, tied to chains of death and laughter.
One feels the grasp of will within,
Roaring free from unnamed ages.
Still on, and on again, the struggle goes, the symphony;
In everlasting novelty, each drop of life, its own oblivion.
Souled or unborn, the deafness all the same,
Unfathomable truths they are, but a whisper.
But then the Sun comes out once more,
Though it knows not why;
Yet it seems satisfied, and so do all.
In such subtle ignorance lies the primeval secret,
To bow our heads and rise, as the stars.
To be one, to want, as the fearless sea. To strive, and to die, as gods.
Estudiante de Psicología