William Blake

Într-un grăunte de nisip să vezi o lume, În mușețel - un rai și-o auroră; Cuprinde-n palmă infinitul fără nume, Cuprinde veșnicia într-o oră.

Mama cînd muri, eram mic de tot. Tata m-a vîndut. Nu știam să scot Decît [ plîng! plîng! plîng!...] bîguit inform; Azi vă curăț hornul și-n

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne\'er beguiled! And I wept

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the

i Great things are done when men and mountains meet; This is not done by jostling in the street. ii To God If you have form\'d a circle

The wild winds weep And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs infold: But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps,

`I die, I die!\' the Mother said, `My children die for lack of bread. What more has the merciless tyrant said?\' The Monk sat down on the stony

The Maiden caught me in the wild, Where I was dancing merrily; She put me into her Cabinet, And lock\'d me up with a golden key. This

1 I saw a chapel all of gold 2 That none did dare to enter in, 3 And many weeping stood without, 4 Weeping, mourning, worshipping. 5 I saw

Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, Dreaming o\'er the joys of night; Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet Babe, in thy

The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o\'er the mead; Gave thee clothing

When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry \'Weep! weep! weep! weep!\' So your chimneys I

“A Cradle Song” By William Blake “Sweet dreams form a shade, O\'er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy

The Chimney Sweeper (Songs of Innocence), 1789 When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely

AND did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England\'s mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England\'s pleasant pastures seen?

O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy; And his dark

I wander thro\' each charter\'d street, Near where the charter\'d Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of

To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. A robin

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: \"Pipe a song about a

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps of

I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress: And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace,

Awake, awake my little Boy! Thou wast thy Mother\'s only joy: Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? Awake! thy Father does thee keep. \"O,

O Rose, du krankst! Der tückische Wurm, der fliegt in der Nacht, im heulenden Sturm, fand aus dein Bett voll rosiger Lust, seine düstere

And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England\'s mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England\'s pleasant pastures seen? And

To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. A robin

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or

To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. A robin