A harbinger of innovation
William Blake
See a world in a grain of sand.
There is a heaven in a wild flower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
Eternity will melt in an hour.
Robins in cages have red breasts.
Let the whole heaven fall into anger.
A pigeon house full of pigeons. pigeon
The whole area is shaking.
A dog stared at the master's door.
It indicates the destruction of the country.
A horse got lost on the road.
Call for human blood to heaven.
Every cry of the hunted hare
The fibers in the brain will tear.
A lark with a broken wing,
An angel stopped singing.
Cockfighting ready for battle
Will the rising sun be afraid?
Every wolf & the howl of a lion
Awaken a person's soul from hell.
Wild deer, the wand ring is here & there,
Keep the human soul away from worry.
Misus the lamb will breed public conflicts.
But forgave the butcher knife.
Bats passing by at dusk
Has left the brain that will not believe.
Owl calling for the night
Spoke the fears of unbelievers.
Who would hurt a little wren?
Will never be loved by men.
The man who angered the cow has gone.
Will never be loved by women.
A dissolute boy who kills flies
Will feel the hostility of spiders.
A person who tortures scarab elves
Weave a gazebo in endless nights.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeat your mother's sadness to you.
Don't kill moths and butterflies,
Because the final judgment is near.
Who will train horses to fight?
Never get past the polar bar.
The beggar's dog&the widow's cat,
Feed them & you'll get fat.
Little insects singing summer songs
Poison comes from a slanderous tongue.
Snake venom & salamander
It's the sweat of jealous feet.
Bee toxin
It is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robe & the beggar's rag
There are poisonous bacteria on the miser's bag.
The truth told with malicious intent.
Better than all the lies you can make up.
This is right, it should be;
People are born to be happy. Sadness;
When we know correctly
We crossed the world safely.
Joey & Sorrow is well woven,
The clothes of the sacred soul;
Under every sadness and pain. yearn for
Bring joy with a silky string.
A baby is not just a belt in its infancy;
In all these human lands.
Tools are made. Born with hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear in every eye
Become an eternal baby.
This was caught by a clever female.
Return to its own happiness.
Baa, barking, screaming & growling.
It's the waves that beat the coast of heaven.
A baby crying down there
Write revenge in the field of death.
Beggar's rags, fluttering in the air,
Will tear the sky to pieces.
Soldiers with swords and weapons. Guns,
Paralysis attacked the summer sun.
The poor man is worthless.
More than all the gold on the coast of Africa.
Twist a coin out of the laborer's hand
Will buy & sell the miser's land:
Or, if protected,
That country sells & buys.
A person who laughs at baby beliefs.
The age and age to be laughed at. Death.
Who should teach children to doubt?
Rotting graves will never come out.
A person who respects the baby's beliefs.
Defeat hell & death.
Children's Toys & Old People's Reasons
It is the fruit of two seasons.
The questioner, sitting so sly,
I will never know how to answer.
One who answers questions.
Put out the light of knowledge.
The strongest poison known.
From Caesar's laurel.
Nothing can transform human beings.
It's like an iron bracket of armor.
When gold & precious stones decorate the plow
The art of peace should envy bowing.
A riddle or the cry of a cricket.
Is to doubt an appropriate answer.
Emmett's inches and. Eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy smile.
People who doubt what they see.
Never believe, do what you want.
If the sun&the moon should doubt
They will go out at once.
Passion is something you can do,
But if you have passion in your heart, that's not good.
Prostitutes & gamblers, by the state
Permit, build the destiny of the country.
Prostitutes peddle in the street.
Will weave the twined sheets of ancient England.
The cry of the winner, the curse of the loser,
Dancing in front of the dead English hearse.
Every night & every morning
Some unfortunate people were born.
Every morning & every night
Some people are born sweet and happy.
Some people are born sweet and happy,
Some people are born for endless nights.
We are led to believe lies.
When we don't look through our eyes
Born overnight, destroyed overnight.
When the soul sleeps in the light beam.
God appeared. God is light.
For those poor souls who live at night,
But will a human figure show it?
For those who live in the daytime.
There are many translations of the first four sentences of this poem.
To see a world in a grain of sand,
A paradise in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
Eternity is collected in an instant.
-Liang Yi
To see a world in a grain of sand,
See a sky in a flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
Hold infinity in an hour.
-translated by Zhang Chiheng
See the world from a grain of sand,
To see heaven in a flower,
Turn eternity into an hour,
Hold infinity in your hand.
-Wang Zuoliang translation
A world in a flower, a heaven in a sand,
The palm of your hand is boundless, and the moment contains eternal robbery.
-translated by Zong Baihua
A world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a flower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and it will become eternity in an instant.
-translated by Xu Zhimo
Nowadays, the following translations are often used.
A world in a grain of sand,
Heaven in a flower.
Holding infinity in both hands,
Moment is eternity.
A world in a grain of sand,
Heaven in a flower,
A tree and a bodhi tree,
A leaf descended like a Buddha.
Naive prophecy,
Understand the songs of the Millennium.
William blake was an English romantic poet in the19th century. His main poems include Song of Innocence and Song of Experience. Early works are concise and lively, while later works tend to be mysterious and obscure, full of mystery. William blake's life is extremely simple, with no special features, only some simple facts and urgent artistic creation activities. 1757, he was born in a poor sock merchant family in London. Because his personality is too unique, he doesn't like the depressing atmosphere of orthodox schools and refuses to enter school, so he has no formal education. He likes painting and poetry since he was a child. 1 1 entered the painting academy for three years, showing extraordinary artistic talent. His father planned to let him study with a famous painter, but for the sake of his family and his younger brother and sister's future, he gave up the opportunity to be an apprentice in the engraving and printing workshop. On the one hand, he lived alone with his wife and made a living by painting and carving. On the other hand, he continued to write poems at the age of 12 and published them with his own illustrations. Until 1827 died in August, a few days ago, he was still working, "asking people to buy carbon pens with the last few shillings", putting down the last painting and saying "I have tried my best".
Talking about william blake is bound to clarify many speculations and accusations about him. Some people say that he is the fabricator and disseminator of crazy and devil beliefs, just like the New Year's old man who can be heard from the cemetery in London at night. Of course, it is impossible for Blake to think or clarify the secular world thoroughly like rabelais and Aledino. Maybe he is a fog of faith, but he is also a "purple fog" full of pain and love. Blake created a way of thinking driven by imagination. Blake is a prophet of imagination and a faithful recorder of experience. We would rather regard him as the best apprentice to purify our consciousness from the "devil's workshop".
Blake's poems, such as The Boy Cleaning the Chimney, The Nanny's Song, The Sick Rose, The Tiger's Hymn, etc., which are most quoted and recited by people, can all be regarded as a part of constructing Blake's "prototype of heaven". Ezekiel, a self-comparing boy, saw a religious illusion when he was four years old. He could keep silent with the "white god" in a whisper.
This renaissance is a return to the myth of lyricism and imagination aimed at the disadvantages of the times. These people praise beauty and compare it to their own mask, but they are deeply saddened by the fate of people in the world and think that they have destroyed the mask of "beauty" of writers. So rabelais staged satire, Bunyan staged sermon, Marlowe staged parody and exaggeration, and of course, amazing satire, while Blake staged naivety.
In the meeting with Catherine, a country girl who accompanied him all his life, Blake absorbed the fairy tales and chastity in the hearts of ordinary people, compared with his own experience and imagination, referred to many fairy tale fables that have been carried out and circulated since the Middle Ages, and added his own unique image creativity. Blake left us/kloc-The Wedding of Heaven and Hell, the most important poetry collection in the 8th century-an imaginary hymn, a song of innocence and experience. If the former is for those who continue to teach after marriage, then the latter is more a New Year's book for primary school students or a golden luminous toy given by Santa Claus. But I prefer to think that Blake built the grand and solemn church top floor in our world, where the proverbs of ideal and reality shine, reminding us of the purity and solemnity of the Virgin Mary at all times.
Blake never denied that he was a man created by naive imagination, but his contemporaries were puzzled not only by his strange behavior and enthusiastic energy, but also by his profound and respectable appearance. Blake was obviously not a writer who wrote for his physical fate at that time. Like Arthur Rambo, he found refuge and belief in "Paradise Poetry", which disturbed the senses to varying degrees based on mysterious and fantastic experiences and led to freedom and praise. Perhaps this is the most important experience and value left by Blake. Blake's bold expressions of "the cry of roses" and "the truth is always hidden in the crazy twilight" have found us some mysterious experience paths extending from "the dark chimney" to "the paradise of roses".