Viajes por la tierra del Kublai Khan by Marco Polo
By Marco Polo
Tras dejar una profunda influencia en l. a. visión que l. a. Europa medieval se formó del mundo, esta narración de las asombrosas experiencias de un comerciante veneciano del siglo XIII en l. a. corte del gran líder mongol Kublai Khan sigue siendo uno de los más fascinantes relatos de aventuras jamás escritos.
A lo largo de l. a. historia, algunos libros han cambiado el mundo. Han transformado l. a. manera en que nos vemos a nosotros mismos y a los demás. Han inspirado el debate, l. a. discordia, los angeles guerra y los angeles revolución. Han iluminado, indignado, provocado y consolado. Han enriquecido vidas, y también las han destruido. Taurus publica las obras de los grandes pensadores, pioneros, radicales y visionarios cuyas rules sacudieron los angeles civilización y nos impulsaron a ser quienes somos.
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Extra resources for Viajes por la tierra del Kublai Khan
I am the most slavish of students, with here a dictionary, there a note-book in which I enter curious uses of the past participle. But one cannot go on for ever cutting these ancient inscriptions clearer with a knife. Shall I always draw the red-serge curtain close and see my book, laid like a block of marble, pale under the lamp? That would be a glorious life, to addict oneself to perfection; to follow the curve of the sentence wherever it might lead, into deserts, under drifts of sand, regardless of lures, of seductions; to be poor always and unkempt; to be ridiculous in Piccadilly.
Then I shall drop you. ‘I am one person – myself. I do not impersonate Catullus, whom I adore. I am the most slavish of students, with here a dictionary, there a note-book in which I enter curious uses of the past participle. But one cannot go on for ever cutting these ancient inscriptions clearer with a knife. Shall I always draw the red-serge curtain close and see my book, laid like a block of marble, pale under the lamp? That would be a glorious life, to addict oneself to perfection; to follow the curve of the sentence wherever it might lead, into deserts, under drifts of sand, regardless of lures, of seductions; to be poor always and unkempt; to be ridiculous in Piccadilly.
But now we have regained our territory after that brief brush with the bicycles and the lime scent and the vanishing figures in the distracted street. Here we are masters of tranquillity and order; inheritors of proud tradition. The lights are beginning to make yellow slits across the square. Mists from the river are filling these ancient spaces. They cling, gently, to the hoary stone. The leaves now are thick in country lanes, sheep cough in the damp fields; but here in your room we are dry. We talk privately.