agonia
english

v3
 

Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission Contact | Participate
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
poezii
armana Poezii, Poezie deutsch Poezii, Poezie english Poezii, Poezie espanol Poezii, Poezie francais Poezii, Poezie italiano Poezii, Poezie japanese Poezii, Poezie portugues Poezii, Poezie romana Poezii, Poezie russkaia Poezii, Poezie

Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special

Poezii RomÔnesti - Romanian Poetry

poezii


 

Texts by the same author


Translations of this text
0

 Members comments


print e-mail
Views: 6754 .



The Grey Monk
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [William_Blake ]

2005-10-19  | [This text should be read in romana]    |  Submited by Ionescu Bogdan



`I die, I die!' the Mother said,
`My children die for lack of bread.
What more has the merciless tyrant said?'
The Monk sat down on the stony bed.

The blood red ran from the Grey Monk's side,
His hands and feet were wounded wide,
His body bent, his arms and knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees.

His eye was dry; no tear could flow:
A hollow groan first spoke his woe.
He trembled and shudder'd upon the bed;
At length with a feeble cry he said:

`When God commanded this hand to write
In the studious hours of deep midnight,
He told me the writing I wrote should prove
The bane of all that on Earth I love.

`My brother starv'd between two walls,
His children's cry my soul appalls;
I mock'd at the wrack and griding chain,
My bent body mocks their torturing pain.

`Thy father drew his sword in the North,
With his thousands strong he marchèd forth;
Thy brother has arm'd himself in steel,
To avenge the wrongs thy children feel.

`But vain the sword and vain the bow,
They never can work War's overthrow.
The hermit's prayer and the widow's tear
Alone can free the world from fear.

`For a tear is an intellectual thing,
And a sigh is the sword of an Angel King,
And the bitter groan of the martyr's woe
Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.

`The hand of Vengeance found the bed
To which the purple tyrant fled;
The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head,
And became a tyrant in his stead.'

.  |










 
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
poezii
poezii Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. poezii
poezii
poezii  Search  Agonia.Net  

Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net

E-mail | Privacy and publication policy

Top Site-uri Cultura - Join the Cultural Topsites!