Emily Dickinson, 423

 
De earste Dei gong oer yn Nacht -
En tankber dat in ding
Sa freeslik - dochs ferduorre wie -
Droech Ik myn Siel op - sjong -

Sy sei, har snaren wienen knapt -
Har Strykstok - wie rampoai -
Om dy te meitsjen - hie Ik oant
In oare Moarn emploai -

En doe - treau my in Dei sa grut
As Juster yn ’t kwadraat
Syn grouwel yn ’t gesicht sadat
Myn blik blokkearre waard -

Myn Brein - begûn te nokkerjen -
Ik mommele - healloen -
En ek al is dy Dei lang lyn -
Myn Brein grimast - mar oan.

Al raar - fan binnen - de persoan
Dy ’k earder wie - fielt net
As de no Oanbelangjende -
Is it soms Gekte - dit?

 

The first Day’s Night had come -
And grateful that a thing
So terrible - had been endured -
I told my Soul to sing -

She said her strings were snapt -
Her Bow - to atoms blown -
And so to mend her - gave me work
Until another Morn -

And then - a Day as huge
As Yesterday’s in pairs,
Unrolled it’s horror in my face -
Until it blocked my eyes -

My Brain - begun to laugh -
I mumbled - like a fool -
And tho’ ’tis Years ago - that Day -
My Brain keeps giggling - still.

And Something’s odd - within -
That person that I was -
And this One - do not feel the same -
Could it be Madness - this?

 

F423 (J410). Ofbyldings: Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.

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