Write! Comrade, write!
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar -
Where the storm is o’er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest -
The anchors fast -
Thither I pilot thee -
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
Scrivi! Compagno, scrivi!
Su questo mare meraviglioso
Veleggiando in silenzio,
Ehi! Pilota, ehi!
Conosci tu la riva
Dove non rugge frangente -
Dove la tempesta è finita?
Nel pacifico occidente
Molte le vele in riposo -
Le ancore salde -
Là io ti piloto -
Terra in vista! Eternità!
A riva finalmente!
Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?
So Sailors say — on yesterday —
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.
So angels say — on yesterday —
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat — o’erspent with gales —
Retrimmed its masts — redecked its sails —
And shot — exultant on!
Alla deriva! Una piccola barca alla deriva!
E la notte sta scendendo!
Nessuno guiderà una piccola barca
Fino al paese più vicino?
Così dicono i Marinai — proprio ieri —
Mentre il crepuscolo era bruno
Una piccola barca cedette la sua lotta
E gorgogliando affondò giù e giù.
Così dicono gli angeli — proprio ieri —
Mentre l’alba era rossa
Una piccola barca — sfinita dalle burrasche —
Rialzò gli alberi — rifece le vele —
E filò — esultante avanti!
Whether my bark went down at sea,
Whether she met with gales,
Whether to isles enchanted
She bent her docile sails ;
By what mystic mooring
She is held to-day, —
This is the errand of the eye
Out upon the bay.
Se la mia barca affondò in mare,
Se incontrò burrasche,
Se verso isole incantate
Piegò le sue docili vele ;
A quale mistico ormeggio
Ella sia oggi trattenuta, —
Questa è la missione dell’occhio
Là fuori sulla baia.
Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea,
Past the houses — past the headlands —
Into deep Eternity —
Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?
Esultanza è l’andare
D’un’anima dell’entroterra al mare,
Oltre le case — oltre i promontori —
Nella profonda Eternità —
Cresciuto come noi, fra le montagne,
Può il marinaio comprendere
La divina ebbrezza
Della prima lega via da terra?
‘Twas such a little — little boat
That toddled down the bay!
’Twas such a gallant — gallant sea
That beckoned it away!
‘Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the Coast —
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!
Era una così piccola — piccola barca
che arrancava giù per la baia!
Era un così galante — galante mare
che via la chiamava con un cenno!
Era un’onda così avida, avida
che la leccò via dalla Costa —
né mai sospettarono le vele maestose
che il mio piccolo scafo era perduto!
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar
Until the morning sun,
When one turned smiling to the land.
O God, the other one !
The stray ships passing spied a face
Upon the waters borne,
With eyes in death still begging raised,
And hands beseeching thrown.
Due nuotatori lottarono sul pennone
Fino al sole del mattino,
Quando uno si volse sorridendo a riva.
O Dio, l’altro !
Le navi erranti passando scorsero un volto
Portato sulle acque,
Con occhi levati che in morte ancora imploravano,
E mani gettate in supplica.
‘Tis little I — could care for Pearls —
Who own the ample sea —
Or Brooches — when the Emperor —
With Rubies — pelteth me —
Or Gold — who am the Prince of Mines —
Or Diamonds — when have I
A Diadem to fit a Dome —
Continual upon me —
Poco potrei — curarmi di Perle —
Io che possiedo l’ampio mare —
O di Spille — quando l’Imperatore —
Di Rubini — mi tempesta —
O d’Oro — io Principe delle Miniere —
O di Diamanti — quando ho
Un Diadema a misura di Cupola —
Continuo su di me —
To One denied the drink
To tell what Water is
Would be acuter, would it not
Than letting Him surmise?
To lead Him to the Well
And let Him hear it drip
Remind Him, would it not, somewhat
Of His condemned lip?
A Chi è negato di bere
Dire che cosa sia l’Acqua
Sarebbe più acuto, non è vero
Che lasciarglielo supporre?
Condurlo fino al Pozzo
E fargli udire il gocciolìo
Gli rammenterebbe, non è vero, un poco
Il Suo labbro condannato?
I started Early — Took my Dog —
And visited the Sea —
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me —
And Frigates — in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands —
Presuming Me to be a Mouse —
Aground — upon the Sands —
But no Man moved Me — till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe —
And past my Apron — and my Belt —
And past my Bodice — too —
And made as He would eat me up —
As wholly as a Dew
Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve —
And then — I started — too —
And He — He followed — close behind —
I felt his Silver Heel
Upon my Ankle — Then my Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl —
Until We met the Solid Town —
No One He seemed to know —
And bowing — with a Mighty look —
At me — The Sea withdrew —
Uscii di Buonora — Presi il mio Cane —
E feci visita al Mare —
Le Sirene nel Seminterrato
Uscirono a guardarmi —
E Fregate — al Piano di Sopra
Tesero Mani di Canapa —
Presumendo che Io fossi un Topo —
Arenato — sulle Sabbie —
Ma nessun Uomo Mi mosse — finché la Marea
Non passò oltre la mia semplice Scarpa —
E oltre il mio Grembiule — e la mia Cintura —
E oltre il mio Corpetto — anche —
E fece come volesse divorarmi —
Intera come una Rugiada
Sulla Manica di un Soffione —
E allora — partii — anch’io —
E Lui — Lui seguiva — dappresso —
Sentivo il suo Tallone d’Argento
Sulla Caviglia — Poi le mie Scarpe
Traboccavano di Perla —
Finché incontrammo la Solida Città —
Nessuno che Lui paresse conoscere —
E inchinandosi — con uno Sguardo Possente —
Verso di me — il Mare si ritirò —
Shells from the Coast mistaking —
I cherished them for All —
Happening in After Ages
To entertain a Pearl —
Wherefore so late — I murmured —
My need of Thee — be done —
Therefore — the Pearl responded —
My Period begin
Conchiglie dalla Costa scambiando —
Le ebbi care come il Tutto —
Capitandomi in Età Future
Di accogliere una Perla —
Perché così tardi — mormorai —
Il mio bisogno di Te — sia compiuto —
Perciò — rispose la Perla —
La mia Epoca cominci
As if the Sea should part
And show a further Sea —
And that — a further — and the Three
But a presumption be —
Of Periods of Seas —
Unvisited of Shores —
Themselves the Verge of Seas to be —
Eternity — is Those —
Come se il Mare si aprisse
E mostrasse un ulteriore Mare —
E quello — un altro ancora — e i Tre
Non fossero che presunzione —
Di Periodi di Mari —
Non visitati da Rive —
Essi stessi Orlo di Mari a venire —
Eternità — è Quelli —
It tossed — and tossed —
A little Brig I knew — o’ertook by Blast —
It spun — and spun —
And groped delirious, for Morn —
It slipped — and slipped —
As One that drunken — stept —
Its white foot tripped —
Then dropped from sight —
Ah, Brig — Good Night
To Crew and You —
The Ocean’s Heart too smooth — too Blue —
To break for You —
Sbandava — e sbandava —
Un piccolo Brigantino che conoscevo — colto dalla Raffica —
Girava — e girava —
E brancolava delirante, verso il Mattino —
Scivolava — e scivolava —
Come Uno che ubriaco — incede —
Il suo bianco piede inciampò —
Poi sparì alla vista —
Ah, Brigantino — Buona Notte
A Ciurma e a Te —
Il Cuore dell’Oceano troppo liscio — troppo Azzurro —
Per spezzarsi per Te —
I many times thought Peace had come
When Peace was far away —
As Wrecked Men — deem they sight the Land —
At Centre of the Sea —
And struggle slacker — but to prove
As hopelessly as I —
How many the fictitious Shores —
Before the Harbor be —
Molte volte pensai che la Pace fosse giunta
Quando la Pace era lontana —
Come Naufraghi — credono di scorgere la Terra —
Al Centro del Mare —
E lottano più fiacchi — solo per provare
Senza speranza quanto me —
Quante le Rive fittizie —
Prima che il Porto sia —
Escaping backward to perceive
The Sea upon our place —
Escaping forward, to confront
His glittering Embrace —
Retreating up, a Billow’s height
Retreating blinded down
Our undermining feet to meet
Instructs to the Divine.
Fuggendo all’indietro per scorgere
Il Mare sul nostro luogo —
Fuggendo in avanti, per affrontare
Il suo scintillante Abbraccio —
Ritraendosi in su, all’altezza d’un Flutto
Ritraendosi accecati in giù
A incontrare i nostri piedi che franano
Ammaestra al Divino.
I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my Feet the Sea.
I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch —
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.
Passavo di Asse in Asse
Con andare lento e cauto
Le Stelle intorno al Capo sentivo
Intorno ai Piedi il Mare.
Non sapevo se il prossimo
Sarebbe stato il mio pollice finale —
Questo mi diede quell’Andatura precaria
Che alcuni chiamano Esperienza.
Had I not This, or This, I said,
Appealing to Myself,
In moment of prosperity —
Inadequate — were Life —
“Thou hast not Me, nor Me” — it said,
In Moment of Reverse —
“And yet Thou art industrious —
No need — hadst Thou — of us”?
My need — was all I had — I said —
The need did not reduce —
Because the food — exterminate —
The hunger — does not cease —
But diligence — is sharper —
Proportioned to the Chance —
To feed upon the Retrograde —
Enfeebles — the Advance —
Non avessi Questo, o Questo, dissi,
Appellandomi a Me stessa,
In momento di prosperità —
Inadeguata — sarebbe la Vita —
“Tu non hai Me, né Me” — disse,
In Momento di Rovescio —
“Eppure sei laboriosa —
Non avevi — Tu — bisogno — di noi”?
Il mio bisogno — era tutto ciò che avevo — dissi —
Il bisogno non si ridusse —
Perché il cibo — sterminato —
La fame — non cessa —
Ma la diligenza — è più acuta —
Proporzionata alla Sorte —
Nutrirsi del Regresso —
Infiacchisce — l’Avanzata —
BORNE
There is a strength in proving that it can be borne
Although it tear —
What are the sinews of such cordage for
Except to bear
The ship might be of satin had it not to fight —
To walk on seas requires cedar Feet
SOPPORTATO
C’è una forza nel provare che si può sopportare
Benché laceri —
A che servono i nervi di tale cordame
Se non a reggere
La nave potrebbe esser di raso se non dovesse lottare —
Camminare sui mari richiede Piedi di cedro
A soft Sea washed around the House
A Sea of Summer Air
And rose and fell the magic Planks
That sailed without a care —
For Captain was the Butterfly
For Helmsman was the Bee
And an entire universe
For the delighted crew.
Un morbido Mare lavava intorno alla Casa
Un Mare d’Aria d’Estate
E s’alzavano e ricadevano le magiche Assi
Che navigavano senza pensiero —
Ché Capitano era la Farfalla
Ché Timoniere era l’Ape
E un universo intero
Per l’equipaggio deliziato.
The Sea said “Come” to the Brook —
The Brook said “Let me grow” —
The Sea said “Then you will be a Sea —
I want a Brook — Come now”!
The Sea said “Go” to the Sea.
The Sea said “I am he
You cherished” — “Learned Waters —
Wisdom is stale to Me” —
Il Mare disse “Vieni” al Ruscello —
Il Ruscello disse “Lasciami crescere” —
Il Mare disse “Allora sarai un Mare —
Io voglio un Ruscello — Vieni ora”!
Il Mare disse “Va’” al Mare.
Il Mare disse “Io sono colui
Che amavi” — “Acque Dotte —
La Saggezza è stantia per Me” —
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 opress of Toll—
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul
Non c’è Fregata come un Libro
Per portarci Terre lontano
Né Corsieri come una Pagina
Di scalpitante Poesia—
Questa Traversata può farla il più povero
Senza oppressione di Pedaggio—
Com’è frugale il Carro
Che porta l’anima Umana
A stagnant pleasure like a Pool
That lets its Rushes grow
Until they heedless tumble in
And make the Water slow
Impeding navigation bright
Of Shadows going down
Yet even this shall rouse itself
When freshets come along.
Un piacere stagnante come una Pozza
Che lascia crescere i suoi Giunchi
Finché incuranti vi cadono dentro
E rendono lenta l’Acqua
Impedendo la navigazione lucente
Delle Ombre che scendono
Eppure anch’esso si ridesterà
Quando giungeranno le piene.
We send the Wave to find the Wave —
An Errand so divine,
The Messenger enamored too,
Forgetting to return,
We make the wise distinction still,
Soever made in vain,
The sagest time to dam the sea is when the sea is gone —
Mandiamo l’Onda a cercare l’Onda —
Commissione così divina,
Il Messaggero innamorato anch’esso,
Dimentico di tornare,
Facciamo ancora la savia distinzione,
Per quanto fatta invano,
Il tempo più saggio per arginare il mare è quando il mare è andato —
The waters chased him as he fled,
Not daring look behind —
A billow whispered in his Ear,
“Come home with me, my friend —
My parlor is of shriven glass,
My pantry has a fish
For every palate in the Year” —
To this revolting bliss
The object floating at his side
Made no distinct reply.
Le acque lo inseguivano mentre fuggiva,
Non osando guardare indietro —
Un flutto gli sussurrò all’Orecchio,
“Vieni a casa con me, amico mio —
Il mio salotto è di vetro assolto,
La mia dispensa ha un pesce
Per ogni palato dell’Anno” —
A questa ripugnante beatitudine
L’oggetto che fluttuava al suo fianco
Non diede risposta distinta.
DEAR HOLLANDS,—Good-night! I can’t stay any longer in a world of death. Austin is ill of fever. I buried my garden last week—our man, Dick, lost a little girl through the scarlet fever. I thought perhaps that you were dead, and not knowing the sexton’s address, interrogate the daisies. Ah! dainty—dainty Death! Ah! democratic Death! Grasping the proudest zinnia from my purple garden,—then deep to his bosom calling the serf’s child!
Say, is he everywhere? Where shall I hide my things? Who is alive? The woods are dead. Is Mrs. H. alive? Annie and Katie—are they below, or received to nowhere?
I shall not tell how short time is, for I was told by lips which sealed as soon as it was said, and the open revere the shut. You were not here in summer. Summer? My memory flutters—had I—was there a summer? You should have seen the fields go—gay little entomology! Swift little ornithology! Dancer, and floor, and cadence quite gathered away, and I, a phantom, to you a phantom, rehearse the story! An orator of feather unto an audience of fuzz,—and pantomimic plaudits. “Quite as good as a play,” indeed! Tell Mrs. Holland she is mine.
Ask her if vice versa? Mine is but just the thief’s request —“Remember me to-day.” Such are the bright chirographies of the “Lamb’s Book.” Good-night! My ships are in!—My window overlooks the wharf! One yacht, and a man-of-war; two brigs and a schooner! “Down with the topmast! Lay her a’ hold, a’ hold!”
Thank you, dear, for the love. I am progressing timidly.
Experiment has a stimulus which withers its fear.
This is the place they hoped before, Where I am hoping now. The seed of disappointment grew Within a capsule gay, Too distant to arrest the feet That walk this plank of balm— Before them lies escapeless sea— The way is closed they came.
Since you so gently ask, I have had but one serious adventure—getting a nail in my foot, but Maggie pulled it out. It only kept me awake one night, and the birds insisted on sitting up, so it became an occasion instead of a misfortune. There was a circus, too, and I watched it away at half-past three that morning. They said “hoy, hoy” to their horses.
Glad you heard Rubinstein. Grieved L——could not hear him. He makes me think of polar nights Captain Hall could tell! Going from ice to ice! What an exchange of awe!
I am troubled for L——‘s eye. Poor little girl! Can I help her? She has so many times saved me. Do take her to Arlington Street.9 Xerxes must go now and see to her worlds. You shall “taste,” dear.
DEAR FRIEND,—Your letter gave no drunkenness, because I tasted rum before. Domingo comes but once; yet I have had few pleasures so deep as your opinion, and if I tried to thank you, my tears would block my tongue.
My dying tutor told me that he would like to live till I had been a poet, but Death was much of mob as I could master, then. And when, far afterward, a sudden light on orchards; or a new fashion in the wind troubled my attention, I felt a palsy, here, the verses just relieve.
Your second letter surprised me, and for a moment, swung. I had not supposed it. Your first gave no dishonor, because the true are not ashamed. I thanked you for your justice, but could not drop the bells whose jingling cooled my tramp. Perhaps the balm seemed better, because you bled me first. I smile when you suggest that I delay “to publish,” that being foreign to my thought as firmament to fin.
If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her; if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me then. My barefoot rank is better.
You think my gait “spasmodic.” I am in danger, sir. You think me “uncontrolled.” I have no tribunal.
Would you have time to be the “friend” you should think I need? I have a little shape: it would not crowd your desk, nor make much racket as the mouse that dents your galleries.
If I might bring you what I do—not so frequent to trouble you—and ask you if I told it clear, ‘twould be control to me. The sailor cannot see the north, but knows the needle can. The “hand you stretch me in the dark” I put mine in, and turn away. I have no Saxon now:—
As if I asked a common alms, And in my wondering hand A stranger pressed a kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand; As if I asked the Orient Had it for me a mom, And it should lift its purple dikes And shatter me with dawn!
But, will you be my preceptor, Mr. Higginson?
After these startling letters it was but natural that Mr. Higginson should have asked to see a photograph of his “enigmatical correspondent.” But there was none. She had an unconquerable aversion to seeing herself reproduced in any sort of “mould.” The frontispiece to the first volume of these Letters is taken from an oil painting of Emily, when she was but eight years old, in a group with her brother and sister. The only other known representation of her face is a daguerrotype made a few years later; but it is entirely unsatisfactory, both in expression and individuality. Instead of her photograph, she sent this verbal portrait. Her coy avoidance of Mr. Higginson’s request was as characteristically piquant as her answer to his question of her age;—
To see is perhaps never quite the sorcery that it is to surmise, though the obligation to enchantment is always binding.
It is sweet to recall that we need not retrench, as magic is our most frugal meal.
I fear you have much happiness, because you spend so much.
Would adding to it take it away, or is that a penurious question?
To cherish you is intuitive.
As we take Nature, without permission, let us covet you.