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:
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;
- But O heart! heart! heart!
- O the bleeding drops of red,
- Where on the deck my Captain lies,
- 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;
- Here Captain! dear father!
- This arm beneath your head;
- It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
- DAS Gedicht von Walt Whitman, hier in voller Länge!
... Wie passend, in diesen Tagen voller Trauer!!!
So ist das Leben... Scheinbar grausam & ungerecht; aber in allem trotzdem -oder sogar gerade deswegen?- sind wir in Gott geborgen.
;)
Danke Herr!
Grüße & Segen
*JC
