William Blake - London 汉译

I wander thro each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
　　
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.

How the chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black’ning church appals,
And the hapless soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls.
　　

But most, thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlo’s curse
Blasts the new-born infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.