Emily Dickinson, 1476

 
Dyn tinzen komme wurdleas soms
As nimste swolchjes yn
Fol singeliere heimenis
Fan Hillichnachtmielswyn
Dy’t asto priuwst sa frij is
Mei sa’n gemiensumheid
Datst gjin idee hast fan syn priis -
En eksklusiviteit

 
Your thoughts dont have words every day
They come a single time
Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine
Which while you taste so free seems
So affable so to be
You cannot comprehend it’s price -
Nor it’s infrequency

 

F1476 (J1452). Ofbylding: Amherst College Library, Emily Dickinson Collection, 537.

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