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Poetry, To Sleep - John Keats

To Sleep - John Keats

O soft embalmer of the still midnight,

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close

In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,

Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws

Around my bed its lulling charities.

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,—

Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,

And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.

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O soft embalmer of the still midnight, ||安眠药|||| ||embalmer|||| ||balsamatorze|||| ||embalsamador||||

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, shutting|||||gentle |||||iyi niyetli |||||łagodnym Fechando|||||benigno

Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, |gloom|pleased||sheltered||| |gloom|||osłonięte||| |tristeza|satisfeitas|||||

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: Enshaded||zapomnienie|

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close ||||cię| ||||tu|

In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, |||||hymn||| ||||twojej|||| ||||teu||||

Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws ||||||mak|rzuci

Around my bed its lulling charities.

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,— |||||zmartwień

Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; |||||||kret

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, |||zręcznie||||zamkach

And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul. |||cichą|trumna|||