Classic Poem

Aweary am I of living in town and village —
And oh, to be camped alone in a desert region,
Revived by the scent of lavender when I hunger
And scooping into my palm, if I thirst, well-water!
Meseemeth, the days are dromedaries lean and jaded
That bear on their backs humanity traveling onward;
They shrink not in dread from any portentous nightmare,
Nor quail at the noise of shouting and rush of panic,
But journey along forever with those they carry,
Until at the last they kneel by the dug-out houses.
No need, when in earth the maid rests, covered over,
No need for her locks of hair to be loosed and plaited;
The young man parts from her, and his tears are flowing —
Even thus do the favors flow of disgustful fortune.

Aweary am I of living in town and village —
And oh, to be camped alone in a desert region,
Revived by the scent of lavender when I hunger
And scooping into my palm, if I thirst, well-water!
Meseemeth, the Days are dromedaries lean and jaded
That bear on their backs humanity traveling onward;
They shrink not in dread from any portentous night-mare,
Nor quail at the noise of shouting and rush of panic,
But journey along for ever with those they carry,
Until at the last they kneel by the dug-out houses.
No need, when in earth the maid rests covered over,
No need for her locks of hair to be loosed and plaited;
The young man parts from her, and his tears are flowing —
Even thus do the favors flow of disgustful Fortune.