Rosaura Monologue from Life Is a Dream

From Life Is a Dream by Pedro Calderón de la Barca

female · anguished · 1:17 min

Wild hippogriff swift speeding, Thou that dost run, the winged winds exceeding, Bolt which no flash illumes, Fish without scales, bird without shifting plumes, And brute awhile bereft Of natural instinct, why to this wild cleft, This labyrinth of naked rocks, dost sweep Unreined, uncurbed, to plunge thee down the steep? Stay in this mountain wold, And let the beasts their Phaeton behold. For I, without a guide, Save what the laws of destiny decide, Benighted, desperate, blind. Take any path whatever that doth wind Down this rough mountain to its base, Whose wrinkled brow in heaven frowns in the sun's bright face. Ah, Poland! in ill mood Hast thou received a stranger, since in blood The name thou writest on thy sands Of her who hardly here fares hardly at thy hands. My fate may well say so:-- But where shall one poor wretch find pity in her woe?

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