Robert Frost, Net sa sosjaal

 
Net sa sosjaal

Wat ik dien haw, ha guon fan jim it faaks wol op stean
En om de oaren hoecht myn straf net te swier
Foar wat ik te dwaan fûn, want it wie net ferbean,
Al wie ’t ek net oplein en blykber nimmens begear.

It soe net earlik wêze en straf my hiel strang
Om’t ik jim wer bewiis joech, sêft mar net swak:
De stêd hâldt in minske nea strakker yn betwang
As doe’t har muorren úttuorken boppe elk dak.

De wrâld kinst net ûntflechtsje, hune jim my.
Dêr ha jim my te pakken, mar klem sit ik net.
It begripen komt diels ferdivedearjendewei.
Ik hie net te fetsjen west, hie ’k my erflik ferset.

My feroardielje ta de dea stiet elkien frij,
Mar dat fûnis foltsjen is de natuer har profesje.
Ik lit dan it beursfûns lucht myn amme nei
En betelje mei wat beleefd berou suksesje.

 

Not Quite Social

Some of you will be glad I did what I did,
And the rest won’t want to punish me too severely
For finding a thing to do that though not forbid
Yet wasn’t enjoined and wasn’t expected clearly.

To punish me over cruelly wouldn’t be right
For merely giving you once more gentle proof
That the city’s hold on a man is no more tight
Than when its walls rose higher than any roof.

You may taunt me with not being able to flee the earth.
You have me there, but loosely as I would be held.
The way of understanding is partly mirth.
I would not be taken as ever having rebelled.

And anyone is free to condemn me to death
If he leaves it to nature to carry out the sentence.
I shall will to the common stock of air my breath
And pay a death-tax of fairly polite repentance.

 

Ut A Further Range, 1936

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