I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you — Nobody — too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise — you know.
How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — like a Frog —
To tell one’s name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!
Io sono Nessuno! Tu chi sei?
Sei — Nessuno — anche tu?
Allora siamo in due!
Non dirlo! lo strombazzerebbero — sai.
Che tristezza — essere — Qualcuno!
Che cosa pubblica — come una Rana —
Dire il proprio nome — per tutto giugno —
A un Pantano in ammirazione!
—
I saw no Way — The Heavens were stitched —
I felt the Columns close —
The Earth reversed her Hemispheres —
I touched the Universe —
And back it slid — and I alone —
A Speck upon a Ball —
Went out upon Circumference —
Beyond the Dip of Bell —
—
Non vedevo Via — I Cieli erano cuciti —
Sentii le Colonne serrarsi —
La Terra invertì i suoi Emisferi —
Toccai l’Universo —
E indietro scivolò — e io sola —
Un Puntino sopra una Sfera —
Uscii sulla Circonferenza —
Oltre il Rintocco di Campana —
It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness —
I’m so accustomed to my Fate —
Perhaps the Other — Peace —
Would interrupt the Dark —
And crowd the little Room —
Too scant — by Cubits — to contain
The Sacrament — of Him —
I am not used to Hope —
It might intrude upon —
Its sweet parade — blaspheme the place —
Ordained to Suffering —
It might be easier
To fail — with Land in Sight —
Than gain — My Blue Peninsula —
To perish — of Delight —
Potrebbe essere più solo
Senza la Solitudine —
Sono così avvezza al mio Destino —
Forse l’Altra — la Pace —
Interromperebbe il Buio —
E affollerebbe la piccola Stanza —
Troppo scarsa — di Cubiti — per contenere
Il Sacramento — di Lui —
Non sono avvezza alla Speranza —
Potrebbe intromettersi —
La sua dolce parata — profanare il luogo —
Ordinato alla Sofferenza —
Potrebbe essere più facile
Fallire — con la Terra in Vista —
Che guadagnare — la mia Azzurra Penisola —
Perire — di Delizia —
I was the slightest in the House —
I took the smallest Room —
At night, my little Lamp, and Book —
And one Geranium —
So stationed I could catch the Mint
That never ceased to fall —
And just my Basket —
Let me think — I’m sure —
That this was all —
I never spoke — unless addressed —
And then, ‘twas brief and low —
I could not bear to live — aloud —
The Racket shamed me so —
And if it had not been so far —
And any one I knew
Were going — I had often thought
How noteless — I could die —
Ero la più minuta della Casa —
Presi la Stanza più piccola —
A notte, il mio piccolo Lume, e il Libro —
E un Geranio —
Così appostata potevo cogliere la Zecca
Che mai cessava di cadere —
E solo il mio Cestino —
Lasciatemi pensare — ne sono certa —
Che questo era tutto —
Non parlavo mai — se non interpellata —
E allora, era breve e sommesso —
Non potevo sopportare di vivere — ad alta voce —
Tanto il Chiasso mi faceva vergogna —
E se non fosse stato così lontano —
E qualcuno ch’io conoscessi
Vi andasse — avevo spesso pensato
Come senza nota — potessi morire —
Civilization — spurns — the Leopard!
Was the Leopard — bold?
Deserts — never rebuked her Satin —
Ethiop — her Gold —
Tawny — her Customs —
She was Conscious —
Spotted — her Dun Gown —
This was the Leopard’s nature — Signor —
Need — a keeper — frown?
Pity — the Pard — that left her Asia —
Memories — of Palm —
Cannot be stifled — with Narcotic —
Nor suppressed — with Balm —
La Civiltà — sdegna — il Leopardo!
Fu il Leopardo — audace?
I Deserti — mai rimproverarono il suo Raso —
L’Etiope — il suo Oro —
Fulvi — i suoi Costumi —
Ella ne era Conscia —
Screziata — la sua Bruna Veste —
Questa era la natura del Leopardo — Signor —
Deve — un custode — accigliarsi?
Compiangete — il Pardo — che lasciò la sua Asia —
Memorie — di Palma —
Non si soffocano — con Narcotico —
Né si placano — con Balsamo —
I had been hungry, all the Years —
My Noon had Come — to dine —
I trembling drew the Table near —
And touched the Curious Wine —
‘Twas this on Tables I had seen —
When turning, hungry, Lone
I looked in Windows, for the Wealth
I could not hope — to Own —
I did not know the ample Bread —
‘Twas so unlike the Crumb
The Birds and I, had often shared
In Nature’s — Dining Room —
The Plenty hurt me — ‘twas so new —
Myself felt ill — and odd —
As Berry — of a Mountain Bush —
Transplanted — to a Road —
Nor was I hungry — so I found
That Hunger — was a way
Of Persons outside Windows —
The Entering — takes away —
Avevo avuto fame, tutti gli Anni —
Il mio Mezzogiorno era Giunto — per pranzare —
Tremando accostai la Tavola —
E toccai il Vino Curioso —
Era questo che sulle Tavole avevo visto —
Quando volgendomi, affamata, Sola
Guardavo nelle Finestre, la Ricchezza
Che non potevo sperare — di Possedere —
Non conoscevo il Pane abbondante —
Era così diverso dalla Briciola
Che gli Uccelli ed io, spesso avevamo diviso
Nella — Sala da Pranzo — della Natura —
L’Abbondanza mi ferì — era così nuova —
Mi sentii male — e strana —
Come Bacca — di un Cespuglio di Montagna —
Trapiantata — su una Strada —
Né avevo fame — così scoprii
Che la Fame — era un modo
Delle Persone fuori dalle Finestre —
L’Entrare — la porta via —
A Prison gets to be a friend —
Between its Ponderous face
And Ours — a Kinsmanship express —
And in its narrow Eyes —
We come to look with gratitude
For the appointed Beam
It deal us — stated as our food —
And hungered for — the same —
We learn to know the Planks —
That answer to Our feet —
So miserable a sound — at first —
Nor ever now — so sweet —
As plashing in the Pools —
When Memory was a Boy —
But a Demurer Circuit —
A Geometric Joy —
The Posture of the Key
That interrupt the Day
To Our Endeavor — Not so real
The Check of Liberty —
As this Phantasm Steel —
Whose features — Day and Night —
Are present to us — as Our Own —
And as escapeless — quite —
The narrow Round — the Stint —
691
The slow exchange of Hope —
For something passiver — Content
Too steep for looking up —
The Liberty we knew
Avoided — like a Dream —
Too wide for any Night but Heaven —
If That — indeed — redeem —
Una Prigione arriva a essere amica —
Fra il suo volto Ponderoso
E il Nostro — s’esprime una Parentela —
E nei suoi Occhi stretti —
Giungiamo a guardare con gratitudine
Il Raggio assegnato
Che ci porge — fissato come il nostro cibo —
E bramato — allo stesso modo —
Impariamo a conoscere le Assi —
Che rispondono ai Nostri piedi —
Suono così misero — dapprima —
Né mai ora — così dolce —
Come sguazzare nelle Pozze —
Quando la Memoria era un Fanciullo —
Ma un Circuito più Ritroso —
Una Geometrica Gioia —
La Postura della Chiave
Che interrompe il Giorno
Al Nostro Sforzo — Non così reale
Il Freno della Libertà —
Quanto questo Acciaio Fantasma —
I cui tratti — Giorno e Notte —
Ci sono presenti — come i Nostri —
E altrettanto — senza scampo —
Il Giro stretto — la Misura —
691
Il lento scambio di Speranza —
Per qualcosa di più passivo — Appagamento
Troppo ripido per alzare lo sguardo —
La Libertà che conoscevamo
Evitata — come un Sogno —
Troppo vasta per ogni Notte tranne il Cielo —
Se Quello — davvero — redime —
Never for Society
He shall seek in vain —
Who His own acquaintance
Cultivate — Of Men
Wiser Men may weary —
But the Man within
Never knew Satiety —
Better entertain
Than could Border Ballad —
Or Biscayan Hymn —
Neither introduction
Need You — unto Him —
Mai per la Società
Egli cercherà invano —
Chi la propria conoscenza
Coltiva — Degli Uomini
Uomini più Saggi possono stancarsi —
Ma l’Uomo interiore
Mai conobbe Sazietà —
Meglio intrattiene
Di quanto potesse Ballata di Frontiera —
O Inno Biscaglino —
Né presentazione
Ti occorre — presso di Lui —
The Loneliness One dare not sound —
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size —
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see —
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny —
The Horror not to be surveyed —
But skirted in the Dark —
With Consciousness suspended —
And Being under Lock —
I fear me this — is Loneliness —
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate — or seal —
La Solitudine che Non si osa sondare —
E che si oserebbe congetturare
Quanto calarsi a scandagliare la sua Tomba
Per accertarne la misura —
La Solitudine il cui peggiore allarme
È che possa vedere se stessa —
E perire dinanzi a sé
Per un solo scrutinio —
L’Orrore da non esplorare —
Ma costeggiato nel Buio —
Con la Coscienza sospesa —
E l’Essere sotto Chiave —
Io temo che questo — sia Solitudine —
Il Creatore dell’anima
Le sue Caverne e i suoi Corridoi
Illumini — o sigilli —
Away from Home are some and I —
An Emigrant to be
In a Metropolis of Homes
Is easy, possibly —
The Habit of a Foreign Sky
We — difficult — acquire
As Children, who remain in Face
The more their Feet retire.
Lontani da Casa sono alcuni ed io —
Essere un Emigrante
In una Metropoli di Case
È facile, forse —
L’Abitudine d’un Cielo Straniero
Noi — a fatica — acquisiamo
Come Bambini, che restano nel Volto
Quanto più i loro Piedi si ritirano.
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor,
No Ear, no Door,
No Apprehension of Another
Oh, Happy Air!
Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast’s Pillow —
Essential Host, in Life’s faint, wailing Inn,
Later than Light thy Consciousness accost me
Till it depart, persuading Mine —
L’Aria non ha Residenza, né Vicino,
Né Orecchio, né Porta,
Né Apprensione di un Altro
Oh, Aria Felice!
Eterea Ospite persino al Guanciale d’un Reietto —
Oste essenziale, nella fioca, gemente Locanda della Vita,
Più tardi della Luce la tua Coscienza mi accosta
Finché non parte, persuadendo la Mia —
We miss a Kinsman more
When warranted to see
Than when withheld of Oceans
From possibility
A Furlong than a League
Inflicts a pricklier pain,
Till We, who smiled at Pyrenees —
Of Parishes, complain.
Un Congiunto ci manca più
Quando è concesso vederlo
Che quando sottratto da Oceani
Alla possibilità
Un Furlong più d’una Lega
Infligge una pena più pungente,
Finché Noi, che sorridemmo ai Pirenei —
Di Parrocchie, ci lagniamo.
Myself can read the Telegrams
A Letter chief to me
The Stock’s advance and Retrograde
And what the Markets say
The Weather — how the Rains
In Counties have begun.
‘Tis News as null as nothing,
But sweeter so — than none.
Io stessa so leggere i Telegrammi
Una Lettera su tutto per me
L’ascesa delle Azioni e il Regresso
E ciò che dicono i Mercati
Il Tempo — come le Piogge
Nelle Contee son cominciate.
Son Notizie nulle come il niente,
Ma più dolci così — che nessuna.
There is another Loneliness
That many die without —
Not want of friend occasions it
Or circumstances of Lot
But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought
And whoso it befall
Is richer than could be revealed
By mortal numeral —
C’è un’altra Solitudine
Senza cui molti muoiono —
Non la genera mancanza d’amico
O circostanze di Sorte
Ma natura, a volte, a volte il pensiero
E colui al quale accade
È più ricco di quanto potrebbe svelare
Un numerale mortale —
The Spider as an Artist
Has never been employed —
Though his surpassing Merit
Is freely certified
By every Broom and Bridget
Throughout a Christian Land —
Neglected Son of Genius
I take thee by the Hand —
Il Ragno come Artista
Non è mai stato assunto —
Benché il suo Merito insigne
Sia liberamente attestato
Da ogni Scopa e Bridget
Per tutta una Terra Cristiana —
Figlio negletto del Genio
Ti prendo per la Mano —
The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man
For is it not his Bed —
His Advocate — his Edifice?
How safe his fallen Head
In her disheveled Sanctity —
Above him is the sky —
Oblivion bending over him
And Honor leagues away.
Il Fosso è caro all’uomo Ubriaco
Perché non è forse il suo Letto —
Il suo Avvocato — il suo Edificio?
Com’è sicuro il suo Capo caduto
Nella sua scarmigliata Santità —
Sopra di lui è il cielo —
L’Oblio che si china su di lui
E l’Onore a leghe di distanza.
MY DEAR BROTHER AUSTIN,—I have not really a moment of time in which to write you, and I am taking time from “silent study hours”; but I am determined not to break my promise again, and I generally carry my resolutions into effect. I watched you until you were out of sight Saturday evening, and then went to my room and looked over my treasures; and surely no miser ever counted his heaps of gold with more satisfaction than I gazed upon the presents from home… .
I can’t tell you now how much good your visit did me. My spirits have wonderfully lightened since then. I had a great mind to be homesick after you went home, but I concluded not to, and therefore gave up all homesick feelings. Was not that a wise determination? …
There has been a menagerie here this week. Miss Lyon provided “Daddy Hawks” as a beau for all the Seminary girls who wished to see the bears and monkeys, and your sister, not caring to go, was obliged to decline the gallantry of said gentleman,—which I fear I may never have another opportunity to avail myself of. The whole company stopped in front of the Seminary and played for about a quarter of an hour, for the purpose of getting custom in the afternoon, I opine. Almost all the girls went; and I enjoyed the solitude finely.
I want to know when you are coming to see me again, for I want to see you as much as I did before. I went to see Miss F. in her room yesterday… . I love her very much, and think I shall love all the teachers when I become better acquainted with them and find out their ways, which, I can assure you, are almost “past finding out.”
I had almost forgotten to tell you of a dream which I dreamed last night, and I would like to have you turn Daniel and interpret it to me; or if you don’t care about going through all the perils which he did, I will allow you to interpret it without, provided you will try to tell no lies about it. Well, I dreamed a dream, and lo! father had failed, and mother said that “our rye-field, which she and I planted, was mortgaged to Seth Nims.” I hope it is not true; but do write soon and tell me, for you know I should expire of mortification to have our rye-field mortgaged, to say nothing of its falling into the merciless hands of a loco!
Won’t you please to tell me when you answer my letter who the candidate for President is? I have been trying to find out ever since I came here, and have not yet succeeded. I don’t know anything more about affairs in the world than if I were in a trance, and you must imagine with all your “Sophomoric discernment” that it is but little and very faint. Has the Mexican War terminated yet, and how? Are we beaten? Do you know of any nation about to besiege South Hadley? If so, do inform me of it, for I would be glad of a chance to escape, if we are to be stormed. I suppose Miss Lyon would furnish us all with daggers and order us to fight for our lives in case such perils should befall us… . Miss F. told me if I was writing to Amherst to send her love. Not specifying to whom, you may deal it out as your good sense and discretion prompt. Be a good boy and mind me!
MY DEAR BROTHER AUSTIN,—I have this moment finished my recitation in history, and have a few minutes which I shall occupy in answering your short but welcome letter. You probably heard that I was alive and well yesterday, unless Mr. E. Dickinson was robbed of a note whose contents were to that effect. But as robbers are not very plenty now-a-days, I will have no forebodings on that score, for the present. How do you get along without me now, and does “it seem any more like a funeral” than it did before your visit to your humble servant in this place? Answer me! I want much to see you all at home, and expect to three weeks from to-morrow if nothing unusual, like a famine or a pestilence, occurs to prevent my going home. I am anticipating much in seeing you on this week Saturday, and you had better not disappoint me! for if you do, I will harness the “furies,” and pursue you with “a whip of scorpions,” which is even worse, you will find, than the “long oat” which you may remember… . Tell father I am obliged to him much for his offers of pecuniary assistance, but do not need any. We are furnished with an account-book here, and obliged to put down every mill which we spend, and what we spend it for, and show it to Miss Whitman every Saturday; so you perceive your sister is learning accounts in addition to the other branches of her education. I am getting along nicely in my studies, and am happy, quite, for me.
Do write a long letter to
Mr. Edward Dickinson was in Baltimore when the following letter was written, in attendance upon the Whig Convention which sought, unsuccessfully, the nomination of Daniel Webster for the presidency.
The new railroad was opened for the first regular trip from Palmer to Amherst, May 9, 1853. Mr. Edward Dickinson wrote on that day, “We have no railroad jubilee till we see whether all moves right, then we shall glorify becomingly.” Everything was apparently satisfactory, for the celebration occurred early in June, when more than three hundred New London people visited Amherst. In the following letter from Emily are indications of her growing distaste to mingle in a social mêlée, despite genuine interest in itself and its cause.
Already Emily seems to have exhibited disinclination for journeys, as, in a letter to his son in Cambridge, dated at Washington, March 13, 1854, Mr. Edward Dickinson said, “I have written home to have Lavinia come with your mother and you, and Emily, too, if she will, but that I will not insist upon her coming,” Emily, however, did go to Washington with her family, later in the spring, as a subsequent letter to Mrs. Holland will show.
My family of apparitions is select, though dim.