The bee: Pan pszczoła

Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.

 

His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!

 

*****

 

Jak wagonów sznur na pluszowych szynach
Pana pszczołę ospałego słyszę:
W kielichu szerzy się niesnaska,
Budowli tej aksamitnej
Co dzierży, aże napaść słodka
Rycersko skonsumowana,
A on, zwycięski, staje w szranki
Inne zdybować kwiatostany.

 

Obute w plecionkę stopy
Hełm ma ze złota;
Tors jego jak onyks jeden,
Chryzoprazem zdobiony.
Pracą jego piosenka,
Melodią wczasowanie;
Och, morały tego pana
Z dzięcielny południami!

 

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

With Emily Dickinson’s poetry, this is obviously the grammatical gender of the bee to become a hindrance. In Polish, Apidae are mostly grammatically feminine. Therefore, in the Apotheosis (Love, XVII), I use the Polish trzmiel, grammatically masculine. Here, in the humorous Bee (Nature, XV) I use, facetiously, pan pszczoła, Mr. Bee.

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