Dolce far niente
Dolce far niente door Frank Buchser, 1857
Dolce Far Niente
Ship me to the far Marquesas,
Where there ain’t no daily pape;
For from whittling witless wheezes
I would very fain escape.
I would sit unnumbered days out
With my back against a palm,
Where I’d read and smoke and gaze out
On the ocean wide and calm.
Far away from witless wheezes,
In those islands of the blest,
In the sleepy old Marquesas,
I would get a longed-for rest.
Every day there is manana,
For the native’s one ambish
Is to pick the gay banana
And to snare the festive fish.
I would take some dusky tulip —
Not to rear a savage race,
But to shake me up a julep
When I felt the need of brace.
Oh, it’s there that I’d be winging,
From this world of guff and gab,
For the bulbul is a-singing
In his ancient baobab.
In those isles of peace and plenty
I would loaf beneath a palm,
In a dolce far niente
And a transcendental calm.
Bert Leston Taylor (13 november 1866 – 19 maart 1921)
Three Sisters Sanctuary in Goshen, MA, de geboorteplaats van Bert Leston Taylor