Surrender: Ustępstwo

Doubt me, my dim companion!
Why, God would be content
With but a fraction of the love
Poured thee without a stint.
The whole of me, forever,
What more the woman can, —
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last delight I own!

 

It cannot be my spirit,
For that was thine before;
I ceded all of dust I knew, —
What opulence the more
Had I, a humble maiden,
Whose farthest of degree
Was that she might,
Some distant heaven,
Dwell timidly with thee!

 

*****

 

Blady mój towarzyszu, o mnie wątp!
Gdy i Bóg by uraczony
Miłości tej cząstką
Co jej tobie nie poskąpiono.
Ogółem czy wieczyście, ja,
Cóż więcej kobieta może, —
Rzec szybko, dla ciebie mam
Uprzednią moją rozkosz!

 

Nie obdarowałam cię duchem,
Bo ten należał do cię;
Kurz pod panowanie dałam, —
Jakież inne krocie
Miałam ja, panna skromna,
Której najwyższe umocowanie
To sposobność,
W raju pewnym oddalonym,
Mieć z tobą mieszkanie!

 

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

There might be hardly anything more prosaic than dusting books. Penning verse about it belongs with genius (take pen and paper and try). I think the poetic person (Emily Dickinson, probably) was reading, when the time for dusting came. She surrendered, and allowed the housekeeping activity.

 

What about interpretations to hold the verse for affection for a human, or God? Let us begin with the notion of God. No woman and no man can presume intimacy with God.

 

In all philosophy and religion, God is an entity of own will and affect, among other attributes shared with humans. Nobody can take satisfying God for granted. Fortunately, the first line has the clue: my dim companion.

 

There is a dim capacity for wings and a fear too dim, in Emily Dickinson’s poetry; there are dim, long-expectant eyes and dim countries; there is dim sounding and a dim border star; dimity in convictions, dimities of blue, and dimming in thought, as well as traits dimmer than a lace — but there are no dim persons or people.

 

What can get dim with time? Printed text. A companion can be a lexicon, handbook, or compendium.

 

Contrary to the rather odd idea for conceit, the poetic person does not express certainty to please God. The person does not expect own name in a written resource to have a definition of God (content also can be a book interior). My suspect is Webster 1828, entry God.

 

As regards pleasing people, a gift of dust could be only ridiculous, especially for love and courtship. There never have been such poor people.

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