O me! O life!

 

O me! O life!
O me! Mo lefe! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with
the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more
foolish thanI, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean,
of the struggle ever renew' d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid
crowds I seearound me,
Of the emptyand uselessyears of the rest, with the rest
me intertwined;
The question, O me1 so sad, recurring - What good amid
these, O me, O life?

Answer
That you are here -that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute
averse. 

Walt Whitman
 

(per una volta la pubblicità è stata utile, mi ha fatto ricordare questa meraviglia...)