søndag den 2. august 2009

Religionskritik anno 1783

William Blake skrev følgende digt, som dog ikke blev skrevet helt færdigt, i hans arbejdsbog.

Tænk hvis nogle skrev sådan om Islam i dag:

I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in,
And many weeping stood without,
Weeping, mourning, worshipping.

I saw a serpent rise between
The white pillars of the door,
And he forc'd and forc'd and forc'd,
Down the golden hinges tore.

And along the pavement sweet,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
All his slimy length he drew
Till upon the altar white

Vomiting his poison out
On the bread and on the wine.
So I turn'd into a sty
And laid me down among the swine.

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