para recitar como poseso

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of a man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is a shadow under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Wasteland (fragmento). T.S. Eliot.
(grazie lala)