The Tiger
Tiger! Tiger! burning brightIn the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
/Hanácký překlad/
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?
/Hanácký překlad/
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?
/Hanácký překlad/
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
/Hanácký překlad/
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
/Hanácký překlad/
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
/Hanácký překlad/
Wiliam
Blake
(28.11.1757
- 12.08.1827)
