Emily Dickinson, 348

 
Ik malkje mar gjin - byltnis -
Wie leaver Har dy’t yn
Syn kleare ûnbesteanberens
In kostlik - toevjen - fynt -
Benijd hoe’t fingers fiele dy’t
Mei frjemd - ûnierdsk - gejacht -
Sok swiet tramtearjen wekje -
Sa’n Wanhoop - fol fan pracht -

Ik praat mar net, as Bugels -
Wie leaver Har dy’t sacht
Omheech fierd wurdt nei Solders -
En dan nei bûten, licht -
Troch Buorskippen fan Eter -
Ik opblaasd ta Ballon
Troch mar in koperen Lippe -
De pier nei myn Ponton -

Ek bin Ik mar gjin Dichter -
Hie alsaleaf - it Ear -
Bekoard - ûnmachtich - en foldien -
It Foech en adorear
In foarrjocht sa ûntsachlik -
Wat Jefte oft Ik krij,
Ferstie ’k de Keunst en tref mysels
Mei Skichten - Melodij!

 

I would not paint - a picture -
I’d rather be the One
It’s 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!

 

F348 (J505). Ofbyldings: Amherst College Library, Emily Dickinson Collection, 85.

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