Emily Dickinson, 359

 
In Fûgel rûn oer ’t Paad -
Hy murk my net - yn tou -
Hy biet in Fette Wjirm midstwa
En iet it fintsje, rau,

Naam doe in dripke Dau
Fan in geskikte Raai -
En hipte linksôf nei it Sket,
Sa koe in Krob foarby -

Hy seach mei flugge eagen,
’t Skeat alle kanten op -
As skrokken Kralen - hy ferweegde
Syn Flewielen Kop. -

Doe’t Ik, bedriigd, him Hoeden
In Krom offrearje soe,
Untrôle hy syn fearren, roeiden
Sêfter him nei Hûs -

As Riemen kliuwe troch de See,
Te sulverich foar in seam,
Of Flinters ljeppe fan Waarm Sân,
Sy swimme rimpelleas.

 

A Bird, came down the Walk -
He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -

He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad -
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. -

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home -

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.

 

F359 (J328)

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