Dominus possedit me in initio viarum suarum, antequam quidquam faceret a principio. Ab aeterno ordinata sum, et ex antiquis, antequam terra fieret. Nondum erant abyssi et ego iam concepta eram: necdum fontes auarum eruperant: necdum montes gravi mole constiterant: ante colles ego parturiebar: adhuc terram non fecerat, et flumina, et cardines orbis terrae. Quando praeparabat caelos, aderam: quando certa lege et gyro vallabat abyssos.
sprung out; the mountains with their huge bulk had not as yet been established: before the hills I was brought forth; He had not yet made the earth, nor the rivers, nor the poles of the world."
South (1919). In this extract, Sir Ernest Shackleton was paraphrasing the poem "The Call of the Wild" by Robert Service, published in 1907.
Mother of mighty icebergs, these Kings of the Southern Seas,
Mystery, yet unfathomed, though we’ve paid in full our fees,
Eyes strained by ceaseless watching, when the low grey fog doth screen
Your walls from our aching vision, and the great grim giants you wean
Away from your broad white bosom, where for aeons untold is laid
Each yearly tribute of fallen snows, that this wonderful plain has made.
We have felt, more than seen, the danger, close ahead of our long jib
But a turn of the icy wheel has made for us more sea room.
We have sailed from your farthest West, that is bounded by fire and snow,
We have pierced to your farthest East, till stopped by the hard, set floe.
We have steamed by your wave worn caverns; dim, blue, mysterious
We have risen above your surface, we have sounded along your walls.
And above that rolling surface we have strained our eyes to see
But league upon league of whiteness was all there seemed to be.
Ah, what is the secret you’re keeping, to the Southward beyond our ken?
This year shall your icy fastness resound with the voices of men?
Shall we learn that you have come from the mountains?
Shall we call you a frozen sea?
Shall we sail to the Northward and leave you, still a secret for ever to be?
By Sir Ernest Shackleton, under the pseudonym of "NEMO", in South Polar Times, August, 1902.
RICHARD: I--I don't see her.
ISABELLA: Dile que su inglés es magnífico. [Tell him his English is beautiful.]
HURLEY: She's right there. She says your English is awesome.
RICHARD: ¿Estás tú realmente aquí? [Are you... really there?]
ISABELLA: Cierra tus ojos.
HURLEY: She wants you to close your eyes. It's okay, I'll tell you what she says.
[Richard closes his eyes. Isabella speaks and Hurley relays it to Richard.]
ISABELLA: No fue tu culpa que yo morí, Ricardo.
HURLEY: No fue tu culpa que yo morí, Ricardo. [It wasn't your fault that I died, Ricardo.]
ISABELLA: Por más que quisiste salvarme, era mi hora. [As much as you wanted to save me... it was my time.]
[Richard begins to cry. Isabella places her hand on his face.]
ISABELLA: Ya has sufrido suficiente, Ricardo. [You've suffered enough, Ricardo.]
RICHARD: Te extraño, yo... Yo haría cualquier cosa para estar juntos de nuevo. [I miss you -- I would do anything for us to be together again.]
ISABELLA: Mi amor, ya estamos juntos. [My love. We are already together.]
[Isabella kisses Richard on the cheek. We see that Isabella is gone.]
RICHARD: Is she gone?
[Richard puts on the necklace and strokes it a few times.]
RICHARD: Thank you.