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The Tyger

Tekst: William Blake

Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

In what distant deeps or skies
Burned the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

 

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? And what dread feet?

 

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

 

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

 

Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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De tijger

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Tijger! Tijger! Fel vlammend
In de bossen van de nacht,
Wiens goddelijke hand of oog
vermocht uw vervaarlijke symmetrie te vormen?

 

In welke verre diepten of hoogten
is het vuur uwer ogen ontbrand?
Op welke vleugels kan hij vliegen
Wiens hand het wagen zou uw vuur te doven?

 

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