La poésie du mercredi (#39)

Notre invité du jour est anglais, romantique et mort depuis 193 ans, 2 mois et 15 jours : il s’agit du poète Percy Shelley avec « Ozymandias », composé en 1817.


I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said : « Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, 
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed,

And on the pedestal these words appear :
« My name is Ozymandias, king of kings :
Look on my works, Ye Mighty, and despair ! »

Nothing besides remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.