Tiger

William Blake: Tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake: Tigris

Tigris, Tigris, éji láng,
Erdőt tépő tűzszilánk,
Mily fenséges, bölcs kezek
Gyúrtak, gyilkos műremek?

Mily vad ég vagy mély verem
Tüze táncol szemeden?
Van szárny érte szállni el?
S kéz, mi tüzet vinni mer?

Mily nagy erő, tiszta hit
Fonta szíved izmait?
S mikor szíved végre vert,
Mily vaskéz, mi letepert?

Mily pörölyt? mily ketrecet
Izzított fel szellemed?
Mily üllő? mily vasmarok
Fog, ha pofád acsarog?

S a holdnak sok kis kölyke lett,
A mennyben mind csak könnyezett:
Büszke volt rád akkor, ott?
Bárányt is ő alkotott?

Tigris, Tigris, éji láng,
Erdőt tépő tűzszilánk,
Mily fenséges, bölcs kezek
Gyúrnak, gyilkos műremek?

(Bajnóczy Zoltán fordítása)

—the tiger belt; bracelet; black top; sweatshirt; scarf; necklace

font: reboard
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