Death, where is thy sting?

Assistir ao filme Wit, ontem na TV, me lembrou do conto linkado. Pra não contar o final da estória, ao invés de falar sobre o conto, aqui vai o poema de Donne que deu origem à peça que deu origem ao filme


DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, 5
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, 10
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.


E um pedaço da carta aos coríntios, na tradução do Rei James (que pode ter sido escrita por Shakespeare, ou por Ben Jonson) (que deu origem ao poema que deu origem à peça que deu origem ao filme)

Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,
15:52
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.
15:53
For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.
15:54
So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.
15:55
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

(No capítulo 13, está a outra frase perfeita, é o da caridade.)