Poème de John Keats : A thing of beauty

Un auteur : John Keats (1795-1821)

Un recueil : Endymion

Un poème :

            A thing of beauty

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

John Keats

Dans le cadre du mois anglais, et pour réviser un peu son anglais, pourquoi ne pas proposer chaque jeudi de juin un poète anglais avec un de ses poèmes en version originale?

Denis

Présenté ici dans le cadre du mois anglais que vous pourrez retrouver sur la page facebook consacrée à cet événement.