When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ‘ 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd like a lamb’s back, was shav'd: so I said
‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father, & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
(William Blake, 1789)
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L'ESCURAXEMENEIES
(versió de Josep Porcar)
Quan ma mare faltà jo era molt petit,
i quan mon pare em despatxà la meua boca
no podia ni gemegar! gemegar! gemegar! gemegar!
per això netejo xemeneies i dormo amb l'estalzí.
Un dia el petit Tom Dacre plorà quan raparen
el seus cabells arrissats com el llom d'un anyell,
i li vaig dir "Calla, Tom! No importa, perquè amb
el cap nu el sutge no malmetrà el teus cabells clars.
Així que es calmà, i aquella mateixa nit,
¡durant el somni tingué una visió!
on milers d'escuraxemeneies, Dick, Joe, Ned i Jack,
a tots els havien empresonat en negres taüts.
I arribà un Àngel que tenia una clau brillant,
destapà els taüts i els alliberà a tots;
per un prat verd corrien saltironant i rient,
i es rentaven en un riu, i lluïen sota el sol.
Després nus i nets, abandonades llurs borses,
s'enfilaven pels núvols i amb el vent joguinejaven,
i l'àngel li deia a Tom que, si es portava bé,
es guayaria a Déu com a pare i no li mancarien alegries.
Llavors Tom es despertà; i ens aixecarem en la foscor,
i vam sortir a treballar amb les nostres borses i raspalls.
La matinada era freda, però Tom se sentia feliç i abrigat;
perquè els qui fan llurs deures res no han de témer.
