HomeПрашања/ОдговориБарајЧленовиРегистрирајте сеВлез

Share | 

 Омилена творба од светот на поезијата

Преглед на претходна тема Преглед на наредна тема Go down 


Мислења : 70
Регистриран : 2010-01-04

ПишувањеПредмет: Омилена творба од светот на поезијата   Јануари 5th 2010, 01:33

Да видиме кој каков вкус има за поезија. Можете да постирате стихови како од домашни така и од странски писатели.

За почеток Вилијам Блејк, поет кој најдобро ко претставува светот на невиноста и светот на искуството (реалниот свет) во поезијата поделена на Songs of Innocence и Songs of Experience.

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 cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd llke a lamb's back. was shav'd: so I said
"Hush. Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned or Jack.
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river. and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark.
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
The Chimney Sweeper (Songs of Experience), 1794

A little black thing among the snow:
Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe!
Where are thy father & mother! say!
They are both gone up to the church to pray.

Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil'd among the winters snow:
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

And because I am happy, & dance & sing,
They think they have done me no injury:
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King
Who make up a heaven of our misery.
Вратете се на почетокот Go down
Преглед на профилот на членот
Омилена творба од светот на поезијата
Преглед на претходна тема Преглед на наредна тема Вратете се на почетокот 
Страна 1 of 1

Permissions in this forum:Не можете да одговарате на темите во форумот
Чек дис аут :: Забава и култура :: Уметност, литература и јазик-
Отиди до:  
Free forum | © phpBB | Free forum support | Контакт | Report an abuse | Sosblogs.com