John Keats' "On His Blindness"

Original Poem

Translation

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts: who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait."

I saw a chicken easy Over half of the world's destruction Death has a tendency to hide The Rainbow Spirit realistic This attitude, so that the My my direct line "God works the exact date, refused to burn?" I asked if he was naive. But patience to prevent The overall response rate well: "it is not God. Study, two gift In particular, according to the report. conditions top 100,000 And other countries, and more Some people worship God, just sit and wait. "