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 misus’d 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 clip’d 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 Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother’s grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgment 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 Swadling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, and Born were Hands,
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.

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Mercedes Dembo
about 4 years

It's also a Buddhist view seeing that a dewdrop contains all that the ocean contains

Robert L. Martin
about 4 years

Holy smokes. That was absolutely beautiful, one of my favorites. Your philosophy is powerful. The way you symbolized everyday things. Kahlil Gibran was talking about seeing the whole ocean from a dew drop. Wow.

Mercedes Dembo
about 4 years

The first strophe to my view is the key to the poem ; the poet holds the idea that the tiniest part of substance like a grain of sand or a wildflower can in certain instances reveal profound truths about the entire cosmos. The idea is similar to see the world in a single atom. For him the natural world can be renewed in time and nature itself can be an augury to the lost vision of innocence. The poet has the aptitude to see big metaphors and visions concealed in the little, everyday things.
This “wildflower” is a symbol for free love. Heaven is seen though love, the world is seen through the intellect, and the imagination is that which bridges the two.
The remainder of the poem is basic imagery, each animal symbolizing a different part of the humanized world. A mystical work as most of his works are.
The link topic between the series of couplets is universal relationship; that there is a correlation between similar things that exist on completely different planes.

Mercedes Dembo
about 4 years


Para ver el Mundo en un Grano de Arena
y el Cielo en una Flor Silvestre,
contén el infinito en la palma de tu mano
y la Eternidad en una hora.
Un Petirrojo en una Jaula
Ocasiona Furia en todo el Cielo.
Cada aullido del Lobo y del León
Levanta del Infierno a un Alma Humana.
El cruel Muchacho que mata a la Mosca
Será aborrecido por la Araña.
No mates a la Polilla ni a la Mariposa
Pues el Juicio Final acercarás.
Una Verdad dicha con malas intenciones
Es peor que todas las mentiras juntas que puedas inventar.
Está bien que sea así;
El Hombre fue creado para el Júbilo y la Aflicción
El Júbilo y la Aflicción están finamente tejidas
Siendo para el Alma Divina un Atuendo.

Bajo cada pena y cada padecimiento
Corre un júbilo de hilo de seda.
Cada Lágrima de Cada Ojo
Se convierte en una Criatura en la Eternidad.
Aquel que se burla de la Fe infantil
Será burlado en la Vejez y en la Muerte.
Aquel que enseñe al Niño a Dudar
De la Tumba putrefacta nunca saldrá.
Aquel que respeta la Fe infantil
Triunfa sobre el Infierno y la Muerte.
Los Juguetes del Niño y las Razones del Viejo
Son los frutos de las dos estaciones.
Aquel que Duda de lo que ve
Nunca creerá, que haga lo que quiera.

Si el Sol y la Luna dudasen,
Inmediatamente se apagarían.
Para estar en una Pasión puede que hagas el Bien,
Pero no hay nada qué hacer si una pasión está en ti.
Cada Noche y cada Mañana
Algunos nacen para la Miseria.

Cada Noche y cada Mañana
Algunos nacen para la dulce delicia.

Algunos nacen para la dulce delicia,
Algunos nacen para la Noche Interminable.
Nos quieren hacer creer una mentira
Cuando no vemos a traves del Ojo
Quien nació en una noche perecera en una Noche.

Cuando el alma duerme en haces de luz
D-ios aparece y Dios es Luz
Para aquellas pobres almas que habitan la Noche
y para los que viven en los reinos de los días
lo hace de una pantalla de forma humana.

Traducción: Mercedes Dembo

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