Texas, Texas! That’s all you people from Texas can talk about. Texas!

Texas, Texas! That’s all you people from Texas can talk about. Texas!
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
Exactly how dull do you think I am?
When you’re alone and you want to amuse yourself, then what ?
Miles and miles of nothing to do
A man of few words, all of them long
This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crow’d in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter’d and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk’d the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built
It’s so boring
I’ve got to get out of this town. Go somewhere else. Have a look around. Enjoy myself.
Nice state of affair, a man who has to indulge his vices by proxy
Jean Girard lit L’Étranger en français mais dans une édition pour étudiants anglophones de 1955 (« edited by Germaine Brée and Carlos Lynes Jr, London, Prentice-Hall »)
Nothing… No action… Dullsville
Je pense à rien