Уильям Блейк

черен я — одна душа бела.

Pipe a song about a Lamb:
So I piped with merry chear,
Piper pipe that song again —
So I piped, he wept to hear.

Sing thy songs of happy chear,
So I sung the same again
While he wept with joy to hear.

THE TYGER
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 skies, Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? 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?
Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

САД ЛЮБВИ
Я однажды пошел в Сад Любви Я глядел и не верил глазам: На лугу, где играл столько раз, Посредине поставили Храм.
Были двери его на замке Прочитал я над ними: "Не смей!" И тогда заглянул в Сад Любви Посмотреть на цветы юных дней.
Но увидел могилы кругом И надгробия вместо цветов И священники с пеньем моим наслажденьям Из вервий терновых крепили оковы.