30 Ocak 2021 Cumartesi

The Sick Rose - William Blake

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy
Gönderen zaman:

2 yorum:

  1. retro30 Ocak 2021 23:25

    On Reading William Blake's "The Sick Rose"

    Rose of spirit, rose of light,
    Flower whereof all will tell,
    Is this black vision of my sight
    The fashion of a prideful spell,
    Mystic charm or magic bright,
    O judgement of fire and of fright?

    What everlasting force confounded
    In its being, like some human
    Spirit shrunken in a bounded
    Immortality, what Blossom
    Gathers us inward, astounded?
    Is this the sickness that is Doom?

    Allen Ginsberg

    YanıtlaSil

Kaydol: Kayıt Yorumları (Atom)