Lovis Krüger
am 22. Aug 2015,
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Ozymandias
by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1817)
I met a traveller from an antique land //
Who said: — Two vast and trunkless legs of stone //
Stand in the desert… Near them, on the sand, //
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, //
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, //
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read //
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, //
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed //
And on the pedestal these words appear //
‚My name is Ozymandias, king of kings //
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!‘ //
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay //
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare //
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
