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10 de oct. de 2019 · L’aquarelliste et amateur d’astrologie John Varley se souvient des propos de son ami William Blake lorsqu’il eut la vision spirituelle du fantôme d’une puce à l’allure d’homme. Selon l’artiste enclin à des visions depuis l’enfance, les puces sont habitées par des âmes humaines, à force de se nourrir de leur sang.
Poeta, pintor y filósofo. Luchó con su arte por imponer la imaginación contra la razón. A continuación os ofrecemos 5 poemas de William Blake. A la estrella nocturna. tu brillante tea de amor! ¡Ponte la radiante corona. y sonríe a nuestro lecho nocturno! al oportuno sueño. Que tu viento occidental duerma en.
William Blake ( London, 1757. november 28. – London, 1827. augusztus 12.) angol költő, festő, grafikus és nyomdász. Az angol romantikus költészet általános jegyeinek csaknem mindegyike megtalálható Blake költészetében, anélkül, hogy példátlan eredetisége csorbulna.
William Blake (28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827) was an English poet, painter, and printmaker. Largely unrecognised during his life, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual art of the Romantic Age. What he called his "prophetic works" were said by 20th-century critic Northrop Frye to form "what is in ...
William Blake - Poetry, Imagery, Mysticism: Blake’s profession was engraving, and his principal avocation was painting in watercolours. But even from boyhood he wrote poetry. In the early 1780s he attended the literary and artistic salons of the bluestocking Harriet Mathew, and there he read and sang his poems. According to Blake’s friend John Thomas Smith, “He was listened to by the ...
28 de abr. de 2023 · William Blake was born in London on November 28, 1757, to James, a hosier, and Catherine Blake. Two of his six siblings died in infancy. From early childhood, Blake spoke of having visions—at four he saw God "put his head to the window"; around age nine, while walking through the countryside, he saw a tree filled with angels.
los sexos se levantaron para trabajar y llorar. Tú, Madre de mi padre mortal, con crueldad forjaste mi corazón. y con falsas lágrimas, engañándote, encadenaste mi nariz, mis ojos y mis oídos. Paralizaste mi lengua con la insensible arcilla. y me entregaste a la mortalidad. La muerte de Jesús me hizo libre.
