Passa ai contenuti principali

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan...

Questa poesia inglese di S.T. Coleridge, esponente del Romanticismo inglese mi ha talmente affascinata, intrigata che ho voluto trarne uno schema.




Lo schema è stato abilmente ricamato da Patrizia su una sua stupenda tela emiane crema
e da me confezionato a portagioielli.



Trovate lo schema sul mio negozietto di Etsy.

****
E qui vi lascio la splendida poesia...

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
   Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
   The shadow of the dome of pleasure
   Floated midway on the waves;
   Where was heard the mingled measure
   From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

   A damsel with a dulcimer
   In a vision once I saw:
   It was an Abyssinian maid
   And on her dulcimer she played,
   Singing of Mount Abora.
   Could I revive within me
   Her symphony and song,
   To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Commenti

  1. bellisisma idea complimenti

    RispondiElimina
  2. La poesia è fantastica. una visione. sai che Samuel Taylor Coleridge si era addormentato dopo aver fumato oppio, e aveva avuto questa visione, aveva sognato...poi scrisse di getto questa poesia per non perdere quelle immagini, quelle sensazioni languide, quei suoni immaginati...ma un gentiluomo venne in quel momento a fargli visita,e Coleridge fu distratto. dopo la visita, non riuscì ad aggiungere altro alla poesia, ma devo dire che già così è splendida. ciao. anche io adoro la letteratura inglese...............titty p.

    RispondiElimina

Posta un commento

Ciao lascia un segno del tuo passaggio!!!