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 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 grasp? 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?
Mia madre gemette, mio padre pianse, nel periglioso mondo balzai, impotente, nudo, lamentandomi forte, come un fantasma nascosto in una nube.
Lottando nelle mani di mio padre, agitandomi contro le bende che dovevano avvolgermi, legato e stanco, ritenni la cosa migliore il ripiegarmi sul petto di mia Madre.
Ho who bends to himself a JoyDoth the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the Joy as it fliesLives in Eternity's sunrise. Chi lega a sé una Gioia Distrugge la vita alata; Ma chi bacia la Goia in volo vive nell'alba dell'Eternità.
And because I am happy and dance and sing, they think they done me no injury, and are gone to praise God and his Priest and King, who make up a heaven of our misery.
E siccome in lietezza ballo e canto, ignoran che m'han fatto tanto male, e stanno a pregar Dio, i Preti, e il Re, che un paradiso fan di nostre pene.