Emily Dickinson, 636

 
It trof my - elke Dei -
As oft de Wolk no spliet
En op dit stuit it Fjoer trochliet
Sa wie it Ljochtsjen - nij -

It skroeide My - by Nacht -
Luts Blierren oer Myn Dream -
En elke nije Moarn dy’t kaam
Bedoar ’t myn earste sicht -

It duorret mar - in skoft -
De Mâlste Stoarm - is koart -
Tocht Ik - mar de Natuer fergeat
Syn Duer - ’t bleau yn ’e Loft -

 

It struck me - every Day -
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through -

It burned Me - in the Night -
It Blistered to My Dream -
It sickened fresh opon my sight -
With every Morn that came -

I thought that Storm - was brief -
The Maddest - quickest by -
But Nature lost the Date of This -
And left it in the Sky -

 

F636 (J362). Ofbylding: Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.

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