Tiger (V. Blake). English Poetry. William Blake. The Tiger. William Blake. tiger tiger o tiger light burning
The Tiger
Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame your fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thin 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 your heart? And, when your heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What is the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was your brain? What is the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? 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? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame your fearful symmetry?
Translation into Russian
Tiger
Tiger, oh tiger! a flash of blood, A quick gleam in the midnight valleys, A terrifying become, Who dared to create you? In the underworld or in Eden Did someone in the royal diadem ignite the Fire in your eyes? How did he survive the burn? Who shook the terrible pendulum of the Heart with its imperious hand And, having heard a menacing knock, Did not remove the confused hands? Who fastened the ridge and read? In the forge, who turned you over? In whose ticks did your brain burn? Whose anger boiled? And when you rushed off into the night, Did your creator smile - loving And the lamb, and - you? Tiger, oh tiger! a flash of blood, A quick gleam in the midnight dales, A terrifying stature, - Who ordered you to rise up? Translation by V.L. Toporova Tiger, Tiger, burning fear, You burn in the night forests. Whose immortal gaze, loving, Created a terrible you? In the sky or among the ripples Flashed the sparkle of your eyes? How dare he soar? Who dared to catch the fire? Who twisted the nerves of your heart and why? By whose terrible hand were you forged like this? Whose was the hammer, whose chains, To fasten your dreams? Who threw your quick swing, Grabbed the mortal fear? In that great hour when I called to star star At the hour when the sky was all lit up With the wet brilliance of starry tears, - He, loving creature, Smiled at you? Is it the same one who created you, Who gave birth to the lamb? Translation by K.D. Balmont All translations by Konstantin Balmont Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright In the depths of the midnight thicket, Who conceived your fiery, proportionate image? In the heavens or the depths Was the fire of the eyes of beasts smoldering? Where has he been hiding for centuries? Whose hand found it? What kind of master, full of strength, Twisted your tight veins And felt the first heavy sound between the hands of the Heart? What kind of horn burned before him? What kind of malt forged you? Who first squeezed with tongs the Angry brain that threw the flame? And when the whole starry dome Was sprinkled with tearful moisture, - Did the creator finally smile at the work of his hands? Is it possible that the same power, The same powerful palm And created the lamb, And you, night fire? Tiger, O tiger, burning bright In the depths of the midnight thicket! Whose immortal hand Created your formidable image? Translation by S.Ya. Marshak All translations by Samuil Marshak Tiger, oh Tiger, in pitch darkness Fiery staring star! Who managed to create you? Who managed to take away from the darkness? From the abyss or from heaven Is the fire of your eyes pulled out? Who stretched out their wings to the fire? Whose right hand carried away? Who strained your heart with a knot of iron veins? Who heard how wild and yar the first furious blow? Who raised the terrible mlat? Who squeezed your brain in ticks? And when the pre-dawn starlight came to naught - Was he really glad, Having met your sinister gaze? Was it the One who made the Lamb? Tiger, oh Tiger, in pitch darkness Fiery staring star! Who dared to create you? Who dared to take away from the darkness? Translated by S. Stepanov Tiger, oh tiger, crimson light, In the thickets of the night there is a hot trail, Who, full of formidable powers, Blinded your evil flesh? Whose fearless hand of Muscles twisted the tight fabric? Who gave the jumps scope? How is the fire lit in the eyes? Who measured the beat of the heart? Who, tirelessly, In the smithy got along with your becoming, Trying to lift a heavy hammer? What chain was entwined with the Brain, where the dark flame sleeps? Who with a smile sent the Powers of the infernal ideal to the world? Who was happy with his magic, Horrified by himself? By whom was the lamb created, and is he dearer to the creator? Tiger, oh tiger, crimson light, In the thickets of the night there is a hot trail, Who, full of formidable powers, Blinded your evil flesh? Translation by A. Kudryavitsky (1996) Tiger, burning in the bushes of the night, Whose eyes have seen you? Who brought to light the features of this terrible beauty? In the abyss or in the midst of heaven - Flesh, where is the kneading done? Where was the terrible roar born? Where was the darkness of the pupils? Who put the fire in you? Who wove the ropes lived? Did you hear a powerful rumble of the heart? Did you break and bend your flesh? Who melted your arrogant brain? Who made you rise? Who, unknown to the mind, Let you go into the darkness? And in response to your grin Whose immortal eyes shone? Light, like a cherub, the Lamb was also created by him? Tiger, burning in the bushes of the night, Whose eyes have seen you? Who brought to light the features of this terrible beauty? Translated by T. Stamova (1996) Tiger, oh tiger, a nightmare, Heat hidden in the thicket! Who dared to give you a Terrifying become? Who inflated the coals of thoughtless eyes at midnight? Who, keeping calm, took them out of the fire? Who unraveled the tangle of veins, Directing the blood flow? Who cherished the beating of the heart In the cradle of rough hands? Who squeezed, defying fear, An angry brain in steel tongs? Who took out the furious metal from the forge? And when the dawn flashed, Did he smile or not at his creation, Before he went into darkness? Who is he, the shepherd of secret forces? Was the lamb the offspring of the same spell? Tiger, oh tiger, nightmare?! Translation by M. Kalinin (1996)
(You will need to stir up your translation, or, - Composite, or your own, so to speak)
*The Tyger*
"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame your fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thin 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 your heart? And when your heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What is the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was your brain? What is 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 your fearful symmetry?"
*This is a tiger*
Tiger, tiger, burning fear, You burn in the night forests. Whose immortal gaze, loving, Created a terrible you?
In the sky or among the ripples Flashed the sparkle of your eyes? How dare he soar? Who dared to catch the fire?
Who twisted the nerves of your heart and why? By whose terrible hand were You forged like this?
Whose was the hammer, whose chains, To fasten your dreams? Who threw your quick swing, Grabbed the mortal fear?
At that great hour, when the star called to the star, At the hour when the sky was all lit up With the wet brilliance of stellar tears, -
He, loving creation, Smiled at you? Is it the same one who created you, Who gave birth to the lamb?
Translation by K. Balmont (In the book: From World Poetry. Berlin, 1921.)
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright In the depths of the midnight thicket, Who conceived your fiery, proportionate image?
In the heavens or the depths Was the fire of the eyes of beasts smoldering? Where has he been hiding for centuries? Whose hand found it?
What kind of master, full of strength, Twisted your tight veins And felt the first heavy sound between the hands of the Heart?
What kind of horn burned before him? What kind of malt forged you? Who first squeezed with tongs the Angry brain that threw the flame?
And when the whole starry dome Was sprinkled with tearful moisture, - Did the creator finally smile at the work of his hands?
Is it possible that the same power, The same powerful palm And created the lamb, And you, night fire?
Tiger, O tiger, burning bright In the depths of the midnight thicket! Whose immortal hand Created your formidable image?
Translation by S. Marshak (In the book: William Blake in translations by S. Marshak. M., 1965.)
Tiger, oh tiger! a flash of blood, A quick gleam in the midnight valleys, A terrifying become, Who dared to create you?
In the underworld or in Eden Did someone in the royal diadem ignite the Fire in your eyes? How did he survive the burn?
Who shook the terrible pendulum of the Heart with its imperious hand And, having heard a menacing knock, Did not remove the confused hands?
Who fastened the ridge and read? In the forge, who turned you over? In whose ticks did your brain burn? Whose anger boiled?
And when you rushed off into the night, Did your creator smile - loving And the lamb, and - you?
Tiger, oh tiger! a flash of blood, A quick gleam in the midnight dales, A terrifying stature, - Who ordered you to rise up?
Translation by V. Toporov (In the book: William Blake. Poems. M., 1982.)
Tiger, oh Tiger, in pitch darkness Fiery staring star! Who managed to create you? Who managed to take away from the darkness?
From the abyss or from heaven Is the fire of your eyes pulled out? Who stretched out their wings to the fire? Whose right hand carried away?
Who strained your heart with a knot of iron veins? Who heard how wild and yar the first furious blow?
Who raised the terrible mlat? Who squeezed your brain in ticks? And when the pre-dawn starlight faded away -
Was he glad to meet your sinister gaze? Was it the One who made the Lamb?
Tiger, oh Tiger, in pitch darkness Fiery staring star! Who dared to create you? Who dared to take away from the darkness?
Translation by S. Stepanov
(In the book: William Blake. Songs of Innocence and Experience. St. Petersburg, 1993.)
In the abyss or in the midst of heaven - Flesh, where is the kneading done? Where was the formidable roar born? Where was the darkness of the pupils?
Who put the fire in you? Who wove the ropes lived? Did you hear a powerful rumble of the heart? Did you break and bend your flesh?
Who melted your arrogant brain? Who made you rise? Who, unknown to the mind, Let you go into the darkness?
And in response to your grin Whose immortal eyes shone? Light, like a cherub, the Lamb was also created by him?
Tiger, burning in the bushes of the night, Whose eyes have seen you? Who brought to light the features of this terrible beauty?
Translated by T. Stamova (1996)
Tiger, oh tiger, nightmare, Hidden in the thicket heat! Who dared to give you a Terrifying become?
Who inflated the coals of thoughtless eyes at midnight? Who, keeping calm, took them out of the fire?
Who unraveled the tangle of veins, Directing the blood flow? Who cherished the beating of the heart In the cradle of rough hands?
Who squeezed, defying fear, An angry brain in steel tongs? Who took out the furious metal from the forge?
And when the dawn flashed, Did he smile or not at his creation, Before he went into darkness?
Who is he, the shepherd of secret forces? Was the lamb the offspring of the same spell? Tiger, oh tiger, nightmare?!
Translation by M. Kalinin (1996)
Translation: c Konovalov Oleg Vladimirovich
Tiger, tiger, blinding light, You are dressed in the darkness of the forests, Who, with an immortal hand, Created your terrible appearance?
In heaven or in hell Wrestled in devilish delirium, Flamed your terrible look - Who discovered the deadly poison?
What kind of will, whose art Nerves straightened and feelings? Who created and for what purpose the Fury of your heart?
Whose hammer on the anvil Forged your desires? Whose chains pulled the body, What beat and roared so?
And when you rushed into the night From the damned forge away, Who, knowing no alarm, Smiled on the threshold, Having created and loved Both the lamb and you?...
Tiger, tiger, blinding light, You are dressed in the darkness of the forests. Whose crazy dream Created your terrible appearance?
TIGER, TIGER! Translated by: Vadim Zhmud
Tiger, Tiger, bright eye,
What scares us in the dark
Who, with an immortal hand
Created your terrible appearance?
Who inflated in the midnight hour Coal of these hot eyes? This fiery ruby
Is it the heat of the heavens or the depths?
What a master full of strength
Svil plexus of these veins?
Who, having heard the beat of the heart, Did not interrupt the work of the hands?
Who forged you and what?
In what did he melt your brain?
What is the strength in those vices
What held back the howl and fear?
Finished work at last
Did your father smile?
Is it the same Creator
Created a tiger and sheep?
Tiger, Tiger, bright eye,
What scares us in the dark
Who, with an immortal hand
Created your terrible appearance?
Thanks From "Us" (Perhaps Thanks, Even) To This Person: OCR,spellcheck: Bychkov M.N. mailto: [email protected]
This is an old bad tape recording from 1976 of a song based on a poem by W. Blake
translated by Samuil Marshak:
***
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket,
Who conceived the fire
Is your image proportionate?
In the skies or the depths
Was the fire of the eyes of beasts smoldering?
Where has he been hiding for centuries?
Whose hand found it?
What a master full of power
Twisted your tight veins
And felt between the hands
Hearts first heavy knock?
What kind of horn burned before him?
What kind of malt forged you?
Who first squeezed with tongs
An angry brain throwing flames?
And when the whole dome is starry
Irrigated with tearful moisture, -
Smiled at last
The work of the hands of the creator?
Is it the same power
The same powerful hand
And she made a lamb
And you, night fire?
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket,
Whose immortal hand
Has your formidable image been created?
(There is also an early translation of Marshak)
K. Balmont has a good translation, suitable for the melody:
****
Tiger, Tiger, burning fear,
You are burning in the night forests.
Whose immortal gaze, loving,
Created a scary you?
In the sky or among the swells
Did your eyes sparkle?
How dare he soar?
Who dared to catch the fire?
Who twisted and why
Nerves of your heart?
Whose terrible hand
You were forged like this?
Whose was the hammer, whose chains,
To hold your dreams?
Who threw up your quick swing,
Got mortal fear?
In that great hour when
The star called to the star
At the hour when the sky all lit up
Wet shine of star tears, -
He, the creature of love,
Did he smile at you?
Is he the one who created you?
Who gave birth to the lamb?
V.L. Toporova:
* * *
intimidating become,
Who dared to create you?
In hell or in Eden
Someone in a royal diadem
Fire in your eyes lit?
How did he survive the burn?
Who shook his powerful hand
Heart pendulum terrible
And hearing a terrible knock,
Didn't remove the confused hands?
Who fastened the ridge and read?
In the forge, who turned you over?
Whose anger boiled?
And when you sped off into the night,
Did he smile
Your creator, loving
And the lamb, and - you?
Tiger, oh tiger! blood flash,
A quick gleam in the midnight dales
Terrifying to become, -
Who told you to rise?
Also a good translation
V.L. Toporova
* * *
Tiger, oh tiger! blood flash,
A quick gleam in the midnight dales
intimidating become,
Who dared to create you?
In hell or in Eden
Someone in a royal diadem
Fire in your eyes lit?
How did he survive the burn?
Who shook his powerful hand
Heart pendulum terrible
And hearing a terrible knock,
Didn't remove the confused hands?
Who fastened the ridge and read?
In the forge, who turned you over?
In whose ticks did your brain burn?
Whose anger boiled?
And when you sped off into the night,
Did he smile
Your creator, loving
And the lamb, and - you?
Tiger, oh tiger! blood flash,
A quick gleam in the midnight dales
Terrifying to become, -
Who told you to rise?
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket,
Who conceived the fire
Is your image proportionate?
In the skies or the depths
Was the fire of the eyes of beasts smoldering?
Where has he been hiding for centuries?
Whose hand found it?
What a master full of power
Twisted your tight veins
And felt between the hands
Hearts first heavy knock?
What kind of horn burned before him?
What kind of malt forged you?
Who first squeezed with tongs
An angry brain throwing flames?
And when the whole dome is starry
Irrigated with tearful moisture, -
Smiled at last
The work of the hands of the creator?
Is it the same power
The same powerful hand
And she made a lamb
And you, night fire?
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket!
Whose immortal hand
Has your formidable image been created?
Analysis of the poem "The Tiger" by Blake
The fantastic textbook "Tiger" by William Blake has been repeatedly translated into Russian. Samuil Marshak's translation is recognized as one of the most successful.
The poem was written in 1794. During this period, the poet and artist is experiencing a spiritual crisis, he, as they say, descends from heaven to earth. He no longer lives in an ideal world, the cruel and incomprehensible reality captures the poet's imagination. In everyday terms, he is happily married, experimenting with embossed prints of engravings, giving drawing lessons and vividly responding in verse to the turbulent events of the era. By genre - philosophical lyrics, 7 stanzas with a pair of rhymes, however, there is one cross. Perhaps the poems were inspired by the poet's visits to the London menagerie, where exotic animals were kept. The verse begins with an appeal, almost a spell. The magical epithet "light burning" is a godsend of the translator. The animal appears as a combination of opposites, a perfect and terrible creation of the skillful hands of the Creator. Who called out this bloodthirsty power from non-existence, breathed into a flexible body a craving for hunting living creatures? Why is this lightning flashing in the “midnight thicket”, inspiring awe, bringing death? The heart of the beast has a "heavy knock" of the killer. The author's innumerable questions have generated several categories of response. There is an option that the predator - a creature of darkness, came out of the hands of the devil. However, the Bible is unequivocal: the devil has no creative ability. Then it turns out that God is the source not only of goodness (meek "lamb"), but also of evil (predatory "tiger"). However, in paradise, animals, without exception, ate plant foods. The change apparently took place in post-Flood times, when man himself was allowed to eat meat. So, the question “Whose immortal hand” is solved quite traditionally.
However, for the author, the existence of the beast is a challenge and a sentence to this world, a symbol of its deadly duality, an abyss into which it is better not to look. The tiger acts not only as a carrier of death for the weak, defenseless, but also as an executioner, an avenger who has the strength to fight and win with any opponent. The predator is a sign of a fallen, furious world, a memory of the paradise past of mankind, a symbol of future retribution and transformation. Epithets: fiery image, night fire, angry brain. Grad anaphora: "what the hell". Polyunion and enumerative gradations. The composition is circular, the final stanza almost repeats the first. Vocabulary is sublime, sometimes outdated (“mlat”, “between”). Description of the process of creating the beast, down to anatomical details. The only exclamation in the final stanza.
The animalistic poem "Tiger" by W. Blake is an attempt to penetrate the secrets of the universe, to explain the existence of good and evil in the world.
I'll start a new column if people accept it. The New Year 2012 is approaching. We should probably start to let go of the illusion that things will stay the same. The process of change has clearly begun. And therefore, let us rethink all the phenomena in this passing world. Let's start with Tiger...Tiger. William Blake (with translation)
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame your fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thin 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 your heart?
And when your heart began to beat
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What is the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was your brain?
What is 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 you?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame your fearful symmetry?
Tiger, tiger, burning fear,
You are burning in the night forests.
Whose immortal gaze, loving,
Created a scary you?
In the sky or among the swells
Did your eyes sparkle?
How dare he soar?
Who dared to catch the fire?
Who twisted and why
Nerves of your heart?
Whose terrible hand
You were forged - like this?
Whose was the hammer, whose chains,
To hold your dreams?
Who threw up your quick swing,
Got mortal fear?
In that great hour when
The star called to the star
At the hour when the sky all lit up
Wet shine of star tears, -
He, the creature of love,
Did he smile at you?
Is he the one who created you?
Who gave birth to the lamb?
Translation by K. Balmont
(In the book: From world poetry. Berlin, 1921.)
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket,
Who conceived the fire
Is your image proportionate?
In the skies or the depths
Was the fire of the eyes of beasts smoldering?
Where has he been hiding for centuries?
Whose hand found it?
What a master full of power
Twisted your tight veins
And felt between the hands
Hearts first heavy sound?
What kind of horn burned before him?
What kind of malt forged you?
Who first squeezed with tongs
An angry brain throwing flames?
And when the whole dome is starry
Irrigated with tearful moisture, -
Smiled at last
The work of the hands of the creator?
Is it the same power
The same powerful hand
And she made a lamb
And you, night fire?
Tiger, oh tiger, burning bright
In the depths of the midnight thicket!
Whose immortal hand
Has your formidable image been created?
Translation by S. Marshak
(In the book: William Blake in the translations of S. Marshak. M., 1965.)
intimidating become,
Who dared to create you?
In hell or in Eden
Someone in a royal diadem
Fire in your eyes lit?
How did he survive the burn?
Who shook his powerful hand
Heart pendulum terrible
And, hearing a terrible knock,
Didn't remove the confused hands?
Who fastened the ridge and read?
In the forge, who turned you over?
In whose ticks did your brain burn?
Whose anger boiled?
And when you sped off into the night,
Did he smile
Your creator is loving
And the lamb, and - you?
Tiger, oh tiger! blood flash,
A quick gleam in the midnight dales
Terrifying to become, -
Who told you to rise?
Translation by V. Toporov
(In the book: William Blake. Poems. M., 1982.)
Fiery staring ghost!
Who managed to create you?
Who managed to take away from the darkness?
From the abyss or from heaven
Is the fire of your eyes torn out?
Who stretched out their wings to the fire?
Whose right hand carried away?
Who is a knot of iron veins
Has your heart been strained?
Who heard how wild and yar
First furious blow?
Who raised the terrible mlat?
Who squeezed your brain in ticks?
And when it faded away
pre-dawn starlight -
Was he glad
Meeting your sinister gaze?
Was it really
The one who created the Lamb?
Tiger, oh Tiger, in pitch darkness
Fiery staring ghost!
Who dared to create you?
Who dared to take away from the darkness?
Translation by S. Stepanov
(In the book: William Blake. Songs of Innocence and Experience. St. Petersburg, 1993.)
Tiger, oh tiger, crimson light,
In the thickets of the night there is a hot trail,
Who, full of formidable powers,
Blinded your evil flesh?
Whose fearless hand
Muscle twisted tight tissue?
Who gave the jumps scope?
How is the fire lit in the eyes?
Who measured the beat of the heart?
Who tirelessly
In the forge I got along with your becoming,
Heavy hammer trying to lift?
What chain was entwined
Brain, where does the dark flame sleep?
Who with a smile sent to the world
The relics of an infernal ideal?
Who was happy with his magic,
Horrified by yourself?
Who created the lamb
And is he dearer to the creator?
Tiger, oh tiger, crimson light,
In the thickets of the night there is a hot trail,
Who, full of formidable powers,
Blinded your evil flesh?
Translation by A. Kudryavitsky (1996)
Tiger burning in the bushes of the night
Whose eyes have seen you?
Who brought to light the features
This terrible beauty?
In the abyss or in the middle of heaven -
Flesh where is the kneading done?
Where was the formidable roar born?
Where was the darkness of the pupils?
Who put the fire in you?
Who wove the ropes lived?
Did you hear a powerful rumble of the heart?
Did you break and bend your flesh?
Who melted your arrogant brain?
Who made you rise?
Who, unknown to the mind,
Released you into darkness?
And in response to your grin
Whose immortal gaze shone?
Light as a cherub
Is the Lamb also created by him?
Tiger burning in the bushes of the night
Whose eyes have seen you?
Who brought to light the features
This terrible beauty?
Translation by T. Stamova (1996)
Tiger, oh tiger, nightmare
Hidden in the thicket heat!
Who dared to give you
Terrifying to become?
Who blew at the midnight hour
The coals of thoughtless eyes?
Who, keeping calm,
Did you take them out of the fire?
Who unraveled the vein tangle,
Directing the blood flow?
Who cherished the beat of the heart
In the cradle of rough hands?
Who squeezed, despising fear,
Angry brain in steel tongs?
Who took out from the forge
Flesh furious metal?
And when the dawn shone
Smiled or not
He is his creation
Before going into darkness?
Who is he, the shepherd of secret forces?
Was the lamb
The offspring of the same spell?
Tiger, oh tiger, nightmare?!
Translation by M. Kalinin (1996)
Translation: c Konovalov Oleg Vladimirovich
Tiger, tiger, blinding light
You are dressed in the darkness of the forests,
Who, with an immortal hand
Created your terrible appearance?
In heaven or hell
Fought in a diabolical delirium,
Your eerie look flared, -
Who discovered the deadly poison?
What a will, whose art
Nerves straightened and feelings?
Who created and why
Fury of your heart?
Whose hammer is on the anvil
Forged your desires?
Whose chains pulled the body,
What was beating and roaring like that?
And when you raced into the night
Away from the cursed forge,
Who, unaware of anxiety,
Smiling at the door
Created and loved
And the lamb, and you?...
Tiger, tiger, blinding light
You are dressed in the darkness of the forests.
Whose crazy dream
Created a terrible image of yours?
