Make me a picture of the sun —
So I can hang it in my room —
And make believe I’m getting warm
When others call it “Day”!
Draw me a Robin — on a stem —
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream,
And when the Orchards stop their tune —
Put my pretense — away —
Say if it’s really — warm at noon —
Whether it’s Buttercups — that “skim” —
Or Butterflies — that “bloom”?
Then — skip — the frost — upon the lea —
And skip the Russet — on the tree —
Let’s play those — never come!
Fammi un ritratto del sole —
Così potrò appenderlo in camera —
E fingere di scaldarmi
Quando gli altri lo chiamano “Giorno”!
Disegnami un Pettirosso — su uno stelo —
Così, per sentirlo, sognerò,
E quando i Frutteti cessano il loro canto —
Metti via — la mia finzione —
Dimmi se davvero — fa caldo a mezzogiorno —
Se sono i Ranuncoli — che “sfiorano” —
O le Farfalle — che “fioriscono”?
Poi — salta — il gelo — sul prato —
E salta la Ruggine — sull’albero —
Giochiamo che quelli — non vengano mai!
I send Two Sunsets—
Day and I—in competition ran—
I finished Two—and several Stars—
While He—was making One—
His own was ampler—but as I
Was saying to a friend—
Mine—is the more convenient
To Carry in the Hand—
Mando Due Tramonti—
Il Giorno ed io—corremmo in gara—
Io ne finii Due—e parecchie Stelle—
Mentre Lui—ne faceva Uno—
Il suo era più ampio—ma come io
Dicevo a un’amica—
Il mio—è il più comodo
Da Portare in Mano—
I cannot dance upon my Toes —
No Man instructed me —
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge —
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe —
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze —
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so —
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here —
Nor any Placard boast me —
It’s full as Opera —
Non so danzare sulle Punte —
Nessun Uomo mi istruì —
Ma spesso, dentro la mia mente,
Una Gioia mi possiede,
Che avessi io scienza di Balletto —
Si spanderebbe fuori
In Piroette da sbiancare una Compagnia —
O far impazzire una Prima,
E benché non avessi Veste di Garza —
Né Ricciolo, ai Capelli,
Né saltellassi verso il Pubblico — come Birds,
Un Artiglio sull’Aria,
Né lanciassi la mia forma in Palle di Piuma,
Né rotolassi su ruote di neve
Finché fossi fuori vista, nel suono,
Con la Casa a chiedermi il bis —
Né alcuno sa che io so l’Arte
Che nomino — con leggerezza — Qui —
Né alcun Cartellone mi vanta —
È colma quanto un’Opera —
Perhaps I asked too large —
I take — no less than skies —
For Earths, grow thick as
Berries, in my native town —
My Basket holds — just — Firmaments —
Those — dangle easy — on my arm,
But smaller bundles — Cram.
Forse chiesi troppo in grande —
Non prendo — meno che cieli —
Ché le Terre, crescono fitte come
Bacche, nella mia città natale —
Il mio Cesto contiene — solo — Firmamenti —
Quelli — dondolano lievi — al mio braccio,
Ma i fagotti più piccoli — Stipano.
I went to Heaven —
‘Twas a small Town —
Lit — with a Ruby —
Lathed — with Down —
Stiller — than the fields
At the full Dew —
Beautiful — as Pictures —
No Man drew.
People — like the Moth —
Of Mechlin — frames —
Duties — of Gossamer —
And Eider — names —
Almost — contented —
I — could be —
‘Mong such unique
Society —
Andai in Cielo —
Era una piccola Città —
Illuminata — da un Rubino —
Tornita — di Piuma —
Più quieta — dei campi
Alla piena Dew —
Bella — come Quadri —
Che Uomo alcuno dipinse.
Gente — come la Falena —
Di Mechlin — trame —
Doveri — di Ragnatela —
E d’Eider — nomi —
Quasi — contenta —
Io — potrei essere —
In mezzo a così unica
Società —
This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me —
The simple News that Nature told —
With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see —
For love of Her — Sweet — countrymen —
Judge tenderly — of Me
Questa è la mia lettera al Mondo
Che mai scrisse a Me —
Le semplici Notizie che la Natura disse —
Con tenera Maestà
Il suo Messaggio è affidato
A Mani che non posso vedere —
Per amore di Lei — Dolci — compatrioti —
Giudicate teneramente — Me
I would not paint — a picture —
I’d rather be the One
Its bright impossibility
To dwell — delicious — on —
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare — celestial — stir —
Evokes so sweet a Torment —
Such sumptuous — Despair —
I would not talk, like Cornets —
I’d rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings —
And out, and easy on —
Through Villages of Ether —
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal —
The pier to my Pontoon —
Nor would I be a Poet —
It’s finer — own the Ear —
Enamored — impotent — content —
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
Non dipingerei — un quadro —
Vorrei piuttosto essere Colei
Che sulla sua chiara impossibilità
Indugia — deliziosa — sopra —
E domandarmi cosa sentano le dita
Il cui raro — celeste — moto —
Evoca un Tormento così dolce —
Una così sontuosa — Disperazione —
Non parlerei, come Cornette —
Vorrei piuttosto essere Colei
Sollevata piano verso i Soffitti —
E fuori, e lieve oltre —
Per Villaggi di Etere —
Io stessa fatta Pallone
Da un solo labbro di Metallo —
Il molo del mio Pontone —
Né sarei un Poeta —
È più fine — possedere l’Orecchio —
Innamorato — impotente — contento —
La Licenza di venerare,
Un privilegio così tremendo
Quale sarebbe la Dote,
Avessi l’Arte di stordire me stessa
Con Folgori di Melodia!
I reckon — when I count it all —
First — Poets — Then the Sun —
Then Summer — Then the Heaven of God —
And then — the List is done —
But, looking back — the First so seems
To Comprehend the Whole —
The Others look a needless Show —
So I write — Poets — All —
Their Summer — lasts a Solid Year —
They can afford a Sun
The East — would deem extravagant —
And if the Further Heaven —
Be Beautiful as they prepare
For Those who worship Them —
It is too difficult a Grace —
To justify the Dream —
Calcolo — quando conto il tutto —
Primi — i Poeti — Poi il Sole —
Poi l’Estate — Poi il Cielo di Dio —
E poi — la Lista è finita —
Ma, a riguardare — i Primi paiono
Comprendere il Tutto —
Gli Altri sembrano uno Spettacolo superfluo —
Così scrivo — Poeti — Tutto —
La loro Estate — dura un Anno Intero —
Possono permettersi un Sole
Che l’Oriente — stimerebbe stravagante —
E se il Cielo Ulteriore —
Sarà Bello come quello che preparano
Per Coloro che Li adorano —
È una Grazia troppo difficile —
Per giustificare il Sogno —
I found the words to every thought
I ever had — but One —
And that — defies me —
As a Hand did try to chalk the Sun
To Races — nurtured in the Dark —
How would your own — begin?
Can Blaze be shown in Cochineal —
Or Noon — in Mazarin?
Trovai le parole per ogni pensiero
Che mai ebbi — tranne Uno —
E quello — mi sfida —
Come una Mano che tentasse di tracciare col gesso il Sole
A Razze — cresciute nel Buio —
Come la vostra — comincerebbe?
Si può mostrare la Vampa in Cocciniglia —
O il Mezzogiorno — in Mazzarino?
I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl —
I read that Foreign Lady —
The Dark — felt beautiful —
And whether it was noon at night —
Or only Heaven — at Noon —
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell —
The Bees — became as Butterflies —
The Butterflies — as Swans —
Approached — and spurned the narrow Grass —
And just the meanest Tunes
That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer —
I took for Giants — practising
Titanic Opera —
The Days — to Mighty Metres stept —
The Homeliest — adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly Confirmed —
I could not have defined the change —
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul —
Is Witnessed — not Explained —
‘Twas a Divine Insanity —
623
The Danger to be sane
Should I again experience —
‘Tis Antidote to turn —
To Tomes of solid Witchcraft —
Magicians be asleep —
But Magic — hath an Element —
Like Deity — to keep —
Credo di essere stata incantata
Quando la prima volta, Fanciulla cupa —
Lessi quella Dama Straniera —
Il Buio — mi parve bello —
E se fosse mezzogiorno di notte —
O soltanto Cielo — a Mezzogiorno —
Per pura Follia di Luce
Non avevo potere di dirlo —
Le Api — divennero come Farfalle —
Le Farfalle — come Cigni —
S’accostarono — sdegnando l’Erba angusta —
E perfino le Arie più umili
Che la Natura mormorava a se stessa
Per tenersi in Allegria —
Le presi per Giganti — che provavano
Titanica Opera —
I Giorni — mossero a Metri Possenti —
Il più Dimesso — adorno
Come se a un Giubileo
Fosse d’un tratto Cresimato —
Non avrei saputo definire il mutamento —
Conversione della Mente
Come il Santificarsi nell’Anima —
Si Testimonia — non si Spiega —
Era una Divina Follia —
623
Il Pericolo d’esser sana
Dovessi di nuovo provarlo —
È Antidoto volgersi —
A Tomi di solida Stregoneria —
I Maghi dormano pure —
Ma la Magia — ha un Elemento —
Come la Divinità — che dura —
Unto my Books — so good to turn —
Far ends of tired Days —
It half endears the Abstinence —
And Pain — is missed — in Praise —
As Flavors — cheer Retarded Guests
With Banquettings to be —
So Spices — stimulate the time
Till my small Library —
It may be Wilderness — without —
Far feet of failing Men —
But Holiday — excludes the night —
And it is Bells — within —
I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf —
Their Countenances Kid
Enamor — in Prospective —
And satisfy — obtained —
Ai miei Libri — così dolce volgersi —
Estremi confini di Giorni stanchi —
Quasi rende cara l’Astinenza —
E la Pena — si scorda — nella Lode —
Come i Sapori — rallegrano gli Ospiti Attardati
Con Banchetti a venire —
Così le Spezie — stimolano il tempo
Fino alla mia piccola Biblioteca —
Sarà pure Deserto — là fuori —
Lontani passi di Uomini che vengono meno —
Ma la Festa — esclude la notte —
Ed è Campane — dentro —
Ringrazio questi Congiunti dello Scaffale —
I loro Volti di Capretto
Innamorano — in Prospettiva —
E saziano — ottenuti —
The Spider holds a Silver Ball
In unperceived Hands —
And dancing softly to Himself
His Yarn of Pearl — unwinds —
He plies from Nought to Nought —
In unsubstantial Trade —
Supplants our Tapestries with His —
In half the period —
An Hour to rear supreme
His Continents of Light —
Then dangle from the Housewife’s Broom —
His Boundaries — forgot —
Il Ragno regge una Palla d’Argento
In Mani inavvertite —
E danzando piano tra Sé e Sé
Il suo Filo di Perla — dipana —
Si adopra da Nulla a Nulla —
In Commercio inconsistente —
Soppianta i nostri Arazzi coi Suoi —
In metà del tempo —
Un’Ora per innalzare supremi
I suoi Continenti di Luce —
Poi penzolare dalla Scopa della Massaia —
I suoi Confini — dimenticati —
They shut me up in Prose —
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet —
Because they liked me “still” —
Still! Could themself have peeped —
And seen my Brain — go round —
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound —
Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity —
And laugh — No more have I —
Mi rinchiudono nella Prosa —
come quando Bambina
mi mettevano nello Sgabuzzino —
perché mi volevano “quieta” —
Quieta! Avessero potuto sbirciare —
e visto il mio Cervello — girare —
tanto sarebbe valso rinchiudere un Uccello
per Tradimento — nel Recinto —
A Lui basta volere
e facile come una Stella
abolire la sua Prigionia —
e ridere — Né più occorre a me —
The Brain — is wider than the Sky —
For — put them side by side —
The one the other will contain
With ease — and You — beside —
The Brain is deeper than the sea —
For — hold them — Blue to Blue —
The one the other will absorb —
As Sponges — Buckets — do —
The Brain is just the weight of God —
For — Heft them — Pound for Pound —
And they will differ — if they do —
As Syllable from Sound —
Il Cervello — è più vasto del Cielo —
Ché — mettili fianco a fianco —
L’uno conterrà l’altro
Con agio — e Te — accanto —
Il Cervello è più profondo del mare —
Ché — tienili — Azzurro contro Azzurro —
L’uno assorbirà l’altro —
Come le Spugne — coi Secchi — fanno —
Il Cervello è giusto il peso di Dio —
Ché — soppesali — Libbra per Libbra —
E differiranno — se mai differiranno —
Come la Sillaba dal Suono —
Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink — enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it Sealed Wine —
To go elastic — Or as One
The Camel’s trait — attained —
How powerful the Stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind —
Forti Sorsi delle Loro Menti Ristoratrici
Bere — abilita la Mia
Per Deserto o per la Selva
Come portasse Vino Sigillato —
Ad andare elastica — O come Chi
Del Cammello il tratto — ha raggiunto —
Quanto potente lo Stimolo
D’una Mente Ermetica —
Have any like Myself
Investigating March,
New Houses on the Hill descried —
And possibly a Church —
That were not, We are sure —
As lately as the Snow —
And are Today — if We exist —
Though how may this be so?
Have any like Myself
Conjectured Who may be
The Occupants of the Adobes —
So easy to the Sky —
‘Twould seem that God should be
The nearest Neighbor to —
And Heaven — a convenient Grace
For Show, or Company —
Have any like Myself
Preserved the Charm secure
By shunning carefully the Place
All Seasons of the Year,
Excepting March — ‘Tis then
My Villages be seen —
And possibly a Steeple —
Not afterward — by Men —
Ha mai qualcuno come Me
Investigando Marzo,
Scorto Nuove Case sul Colle —
E forse una Chiesa —
Che non c’erano, Noi siamo certi —
Ancora al tempo della Neve —
E ci sono Oggi — se Noi esistiamo —
Ma come può essere così?
Ha mai qualcuno come Me
Congetturato Chi possano essere
Gli Occupanti degli Adobi —
Così prossimi al Cielo —
Parrebbe che Dio debba essere
Il Vicino più prossimo —
E il Paradiso — una comoda Grazia
Per Mostra, o Compagnia —
Ha mai qualcuno come Me
Custodito intatto l’Incanto
Evitando con cura quel Luogo
In tutte le Stagioni dell’Anno,
Eccetto Marzo — È allora
Che i miei Villaggi si vedono —
E forse un Campanile —
Non dopo — dagli Uomini —
The Truth — is stirless —
Other force — may be presumed to move —
This — then — is best for confidence —
When oldest Cedars swerve —
And Oaks untwist their fists —
And Mountains — feeble — lean —
How excellent a Body, that
Stands without a Bone —
How vigorous a Force
That holds without a Prop —
Truth stays Herself — and every man
That trusts Her — boldly up —
La Verità — è immota —
Altra forza — si può presumere che si muova —
Questa — dunque — è la migliore per la fiducia —
Quando i più antichi Cedri deviano —
E le Querce disserrano i pugni —
E i Monti — fiacchi — si piegano —
Che eccellente Corpo, quello
Che sta ritto senza un Osso —
Che vigorosa Forza
Quella che regge senza un Sostegno —
La Verità sorregge Se stessa — e ogni uomo
Che si affida a Lei — arditamente in piedi —
Perception of an object costs
Precise the Object’s loss —
Perception in itself a Gain
Replying to its Price —
The Object Absolute — is nought —
Perception sets it fair
And then upbraids a Perfectness
That situates so far —
La percezione di un oggetto costa
Precisa la perdita dell’Oggetto —
La Percezione in sé un Guadagno
Che risponde al suo Prezzo —
L’Oggetto Assoluto — è nulla —
La Percezione lo fa bello
E poi rimprovera una Perfezione
Che si situa così lontano —
Shall I take thee, the Poet said
To the propounded word?
Be stationed with the Candidates
Till I have finer tried —
The Poet searched Philology
And when about to ring
For the suspended Candidate
There came unsummoned in —
That portion of the Vision
The Word applied to fill
Not unto nomination
The Cherubim reveal —
Dovrò prenderti, disse il Poeta
Per la parola proposta?
Sta’ schierata con i Candidati
Finché non abbia meglio vagliato —
Il Poeta scrutò la Filologia
E quando stava per chiamare
Il Candidato sospeso
Entrò non convocata —
Quella porzione della Visione
Che la Parola doveva colmare
Non alla nomina
I Cherubini rivelano —
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —
Di’ tutta la Verità ma dilla obliqua —
Il Successo sta nel Circuito
Troppo fulgida per il nostro infermo Diletto
La superba sorpresa della Verità
Come il Lampo ai Bambini alleviato
Con spiegazione gentile
La Verità deve abbagliare gradualmente
O ogni uomo sarà cieco —
I worked for chaff and earning Wheat
Was haughty and betrayed.
What right had Fields to arbitrate
In matters ratified?
I tasted Wheat and hated Chaff
And thanked the ample friend —
Wisdom is more becoming viewed
At distance than at hand.
Lavorai per pula e guadagnare Grano
Fu superbia e tradimento.
Che diritto avevano i Campi di arbitrare
In materie ratificate?
Assaggiai il Grano e odiai la Pula
E ringraziai l’amico generoso —
La Saggezza è più avvenente vista
A distanza che da presso.
The way Hope builds his House
It is not with a sill —
Nor Rafter — has that Edifice
But only Pinnacle —
Abode in as supreme
This superficies
As if it were of Ledges smit
Or mortised with the Laws —
Il modo in cui la Speranza costruisce la sua Casa
Non è con un basamento —
Né Trave — possiede quell’Edificio
Ma soltanto Pinnacolo —
Abitata come suprema
Questa superficie
Come fosse forgiata di Rupi
O incastrata con le Leggi —
Talk not to me of Summer Trees
The foliage of the mind
A Tabernacle is for Birds
Of no corporeal kind
And winds do go that way at noon
To their Ethereal Homes
Whose Bugles call the least of us
To undepicted Realms
Non parlarmi di Alberi d’Estate
Il fogliame della mente
È un Tabernacolo per Uccelli
Di specie non corporea
E i venti vanno per quella via a mezzogiorno
Verso le loro Eteree Dimore
Le cui Trombe chiamano il più piccolo di noi
A Reami non raffigurati
MY DEAR BROTHER AUSTIN,—… I finished my examination in Euclid last evening, and without a failure at any time. You can easily imagine how glad I am to get through with four books, for you have finished the whole forever… . How are you all at home, and what are you doing this vacation? You are reading Arabian Nights, according to Viny’s statement. I hope you have derived much benefit from their perusal, and presume your powers of imagining will vastly increase thereby. But I must give you a word of advice too. Cultivate your other powers in proportion as you allow imagination to captivate you. Am not I a very wise young lady?
I had almost forgotten to tell you what my studies are now—“better late than never.” They are Chemistry, Physiology, and quarter course in Algebra. I have completed four studies already, and am getting along well. Did you think that it was my birthday yesterday? I don’t believe I am seventeen! …
DEAR EMILY,—I come and see you a great many times every day, though I don’t bring my body with me, so perhaps you don’t know I’m there. But I love to come just as dearly, for nobody sees me then, and I sit and chat away, and look up in your face, and no matter who calls if “my Lord the King,” he doesn’t interrupt me. Let me say, dear Emily, both mean to come at a time, so you shall be very sure I am sitting by your side, and not have to trust the fancy… .
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped freight Of a delivered syllable, ‘Twould crumble with the weight!
… I think of your little parlor as the poets once thought of Windermere,—peace, sunshine, and books.
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take, Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears the human soul!
What words could more vividly express the uplift, the expansion, the wider horizon which books bring! To Emily Dickinson, they were always solace and delight,—“frigates” and “coursers” indeed, to her quiet life, taking her over the world and into the infinite spaces, bringing Cathay and Brazil, Cashmere and Teneriffe, into an intimacy as near and familiar as the summer bees and butterflies of her own home noon. Without the help of books even, her nimble fancy leaped intervening leagues as if it commanded the magic carpet of Prince Houssain; but her love for books and indebtedness to them are many times expressed in the poems, both published and unpublished.
MR. HIGGINSON,—Are you too deeply occupied to say if my verse is alive?
The mind is so near itself it cannot see distinctly, and I have none to ask.
Should you think it breathed, and had you the leisure to tell me, I should feel quick gratitude.
If I make the mistake, that you dared to tell me would give me sincerer honor toward you.
I enclosed my name, asking you, if you please, sir, to tell me what is true?
That you will not betray me it is needless to ask, since honor is its own pawn.
DEAR FRIEND,—Thank you for permission to write Mrs. Higginson. I hope I have not fatigued her—also for thinking of my brother, who is slowly better, and rides for an hour, kind days.
I am glad if I did as you would like. The degradation to displease you, I hope I may never incur.
Often, when troubled by entreaty, that paragraph of yours has saved me—“Such being the majesty of the art you presume to practise, you can at least take time before dishonoring it,” and Enobarbus said, “Leave that which leaves itself.”
I shall look with joy for the “little book” because it is yours, though I seek you in vain in the magazines where you once wrote. I recently found two papers of yours that were unknown to me, and wondered anew at your with- drawing thought so sought by others.
When flowers annually died and I was a child, I used to read Dr. Hitchcock’s book on the Flowers of North America. This comforted their absence, assuring me they lived.
Tropics, and dairies, and fairies! Thank the Arabian Nights.
… What a hazard an accent is! When I think of the hearts it has scuttled or sunk, I almost fear to lift my hand to so much as a punctuation.