Auguries of Innocence

Auguries of Innocence

William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill’d with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm’d for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf’s and lion’s howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand’ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus’d breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher’s knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won’t believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever’s fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov’d by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by woman lov’d.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider’s enmity.
He who torments the chafer’s sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother’s grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar’s dog and widow’s cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer’s song
Poison gets from slander’s tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy’s foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist’s jealousy.

The prince’s robes and beggar’s rags
Are toadstools on the miser’s bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,
And return’d to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven’s shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar’s rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm’d with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer’s sun.
The poor man’s farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric’s shore.

One mite wrung from the lab’rer’s hands
Shall buy and sell the miser’s lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant’s faith
Shall be mock’d in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne’er get out.

He who respects the infant’s faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child’s toys and the old man’s reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour’s iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket’s cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet’s inch and eagle’s mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They’d immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation’s fate.
The harlot’s cry from street to street
Shall weave old England’s winding-sheet.

The winner’s shout, the loser’s curse,
Dance before dead England’s hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

天真的预示

威廉·布莱克

一粒沙中观一世界
一朵花中憬悟天堂
掌中握无限
刹那偕永恒

笼中知更
将天国置若罔怒

拥挤的鸽房
似地狱席卷般战栗
饿狗死在主人门前
预示着彼此的毁灭

马儿的虐待在路边上演
求召天国偿还这笔血债
每一声猎兔的疾呼
皆是被撕碎的一丝头颅

云雀的羽翼被刺创
于是天使将停止歌唱
斗鸡武装起来开战
惊骇了旭日

每一声豺狼的嚎哭
唤醒睡在地狱的死灵

野鹿去而复返
关照着人类的灵魂
羔羊受虐引起公众的吵嚷
亦原谅了屠夫的利刃

蝙蝠掠过白夜
留下怀疑者的头脑
猫头鹰匿于深夜
诉说着不信之人的恐惧

谁在伤害鹪鹩
他将不再被爱
谁在触怒公牛
他将不再能爱

杀死了这只苍蝇
顽童会被蜘蛛仇恨
折磨着那金龟子
精灵为你编织了茫茫黑夜

叶上的毛虫
复述着母亲的不幸
别去杀飞蛾与蝴蝶
因为最终的审判不远就来

有人把马训练作战
将无法跨越北极线
乞狗与寡猫前来
喂养它 并使之形容衰汰

蚊蝇为夏日嗡鸣
毒药便取自诽谤之舌
蛇及蝾螈的剧毒
是嫉妒者的脚汗

蜂后的毒
是艺术家的猜忌

王锦丐褛
似守财奴衣袋上的毒斑
当真理被恶意所利用
打破一切臆造的谎言

现实本该如此
人们生来注定承受喜悲
若能明了这些
你我便可安然自在

将你的悲与喜交织在一起
披一件给纯洁心灵的衣裳
在每一份伤痛与悲哀中
必然亦有喜悦的存在

婴孩绝非仅育于襁褓
此地此民皆无例外

被制造的或被孕育的
每一名农夫皆明白
每一滴泪及每一双眼
化为永恒的存在

这些由女人引致的欢愉
终将反之与她
哭诉 叫喊 怒吼 呼唤
海浪拍打着天堂之彼岸

哭泣的婴儿
把仇恨书写在死域
丐衣飘残零散
把天空撕成碎片

士兵们刀枪铛铛
耸动骄阳
穷人们空身行囊
却胜过非洲大陆的宝藏

从劳动者手里榨取的杯羹
亦能买卖守财奴的土地
若是受得到上帝庇佑
世间万物皆可变卖

谁在嘲笑幼稚的信念
谁便将被岁月无情嘲弄
谁在唆使纯真的疑猜
谁便将被坟茔埋葬腐坏

谁能尊重天真的信念
谁将在死生中赢得凯旋
孩子的玩具及老者的箴言
是我们在季节里收获的果粟

人们在狡黠的质问
却不能作答
人们在模棱的回复
把知识拒之门外

世上所知的最毒之药
来自于凯撒的桂冠
没有人能纠正畸形的人类
正如胄铁难折

当金玉装饰了犁耕
平和的艺术亦卑躬屈漆
一个迷 或是窸窣的哭泣
你我猜疑着彼此的答案

蝼蚁与鹰鹫行差千里
令无聊的哲理变得好笑
如果怀疑自己的眼睛
你将永远不懂得信任

如果太阳和月亮心存质疑
他们将会转瞬即逝
身处于激情中获知美好
但不可为之迷失自我

妓女与赌徒
被喊来建造人类的命运
在街角传遍着娼妓的嚎啕
编织出陈旧的裹尸布

胜利的人欢呼 失败的人诅咒
在英格兰的灵柩前舞摆

每一个夜晚 每一个清晨
有些人注定承受痛苦
每一个清晨 每一个夜晚
有些人注定拥抱幸福

有些人注定拥抱幸福
有些人注定承受无尽长夜

如非亲眼所见
我们便易相信谎言
当灵魂在光芒中沉睡时
谎言终将在黑夜中自生自灭

困在无尽长夜中的灵魂啊
上帝定会出现 幻化成光
对生活在白昼的人
上帝仅外显为人

（Frengers 译）