Epitaph: Epitafium

Step lightly on this narrow spot!
The broadest land that grows
Is not so ample as the breast
These emerald seams enclose.
Step lofty; for this name is told
As far as cannon dwell,
Or flag subsist, or fame export
Her deathless syllable.

 

*****

 

Stąpaj lekko, w wąskim tym miejscu!
Ziemie żywe, najszersze
Piersi tej pełnią nie równe
Co ją szmaragdu obrąb obejmie.
Wzniośle stąpaj; bo to imię rzecze
Każdy, gdzie armata się zatrzymuje
Flaga trwa, a sława niesie
Sylabą co nie umrze.

At least to pray is left

At least to pray is left, is left.
O Jesus! in the air
I know not which thy chamber is, —
I ‘m knocking everywhere.
Thou stirrest earthquake in the South,
And maelstrom in the sea;
Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
Hast thou no arm for me?

 

*****

 

Przynajmniej, pozostaje się modlić.
O Jezu! w przestworzach
Nie wiem, które twoje pokoje, —
Wszędzie stukoczę.
Na południu, twoim ziemi wstrząsanie
I wir melstromu morskiego
Powiedz, Jezu Nazaretański,
Nie masz ty dla mnie ramienia?

Going to heaven!

 

Going to heaven!
I don’t know when,
Pray do not ask me how, —
Indeed, I ‘m too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to heaven! —
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the shepherd’s arm!

 

Perhaps you ‘re going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first,
Save just a little place for me
Close to the two I lost!

 

The smallest “robe” will fit me,
And just a bit of “crown;”
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home.

 

I ‘m glad I don’t believe it,
For it would stop my breath,
And I ‘d like to look a little more
At such a curious earth!
I am glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

 

*****

 

Idę do nieba!
Nie wiem, kiedy
Proszę, nie pytaj, jak —
Jestem zbyt zaskoczona
Aby pomyśleć, jak odpowiedzieć!
Idę do nieba! —
Mgliście to brzmi tak
Ale rzecz się dokona
Pewnikiem, jak stadka na noc wracają do domu
Na pasterza ramiona!

 

Może ty też idziesz!
Kto wie?
Jak by pierwej tam tobie,
Miejsca zachowaj mi troszkę
Blisko tych dwóch, co puściłam przedtem!

 

Najmniejsza „suknia” mi będzie pasować
A troszkę tylko „korony”;
Bo wiesz, że nie martwią nas stroje
Kiedy idziemy do domu.

 

Cieszę się, że w to nie wierzę,
Bo oddech by mi zatrzymało
A chcę sobie dalej popatrzeć
Na ziemię tak ciekawą!
Że one wierzyły, się cieszę
Te, co ich już nie znalazłam
Od tego popołudnia jesiennego
Gdy zostawiłam je nie zerwane.

The uncouth love in Emily Dickinson’s poetry

Let us make a premise.

  • We cannot have poetry for a personal account. We need to allow for the poetic person.
  • The word sense for uncouth is not customary, not ordinary and thus unfamiliar.

 

Emily Dickinson’s contemporaries did put love in a rather tight corset: if one loved, it had to be a person, human or God. However, let us compare the American Heritage today, for a transitive and defining use of the verb to love.

 

LOVE, verb, transitive: 1. To feel love for (a person); 2. To feel sexual love for (a person).

 

Here, the transitive and defining use ends. Further, we can have kindness, emotional attachment, or enthusiasm.

 

 

Naturally, we should not have the same word for the definiens and the definiendum. Saying, “to love is to love”, we either commit ourselves to tautology, or make a motto. 🙂

 

 

Today too, a prominent lexical resource emphasizes love as a feeling for people, whereas both history and behaviorism would have proved that expectation on love as a feeling fundamentally for a person is narcissistic vanity. 😉

 

When I published my translation of Surrender on a website, the reaction was disbelief. I had mistaken something, the opinions were.

 

 

The forum was not the only such environment.
“In my opinion, the poem is saying she’s angry with a friend who is getting back together with someone who won’t give her his whole heart.”

 

 

>>God<< must be the subject of >>would be content<< and we see the second and more significant meaning. God would be content if she only dedicated to him a fraction of what she gives the lover.”

 

 

There might be hardly anything more prosaic than dusting books. Penning verse about it belongs with genius (take pen and paper and try). Let us imagine the poetic person was reading, when the time for dusting came. The person surrendered and allowed the housekeeping activity.

 

What if we continue holding love for a feeling that can refer to a human, or God strictly? Let us begin with the notion of God. Nobody can presume intimacy with God.

 

Why, God would be content
With but a fraction of the love
Poured thee without a stint.

 

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 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.

 

Interpretations of Emily Dickinson’s poetry also happen to put a yoke of physicalness on emotion.

 

Zostawiłeś mi Granice Bólu –
Pojemne jak Morze –
(Bequest, Love II)

 

Should one have had as little experience with pain as milk tooth ache only, one still knows the people round do not have the same physical sensations. Things are the same for people to have lived before us.

 

If we combine the notions of content and vastness, we can compare the Greek βαρύμοχθος, barymochthos, toilsome. Today, we have the phrase to take the pains, expressing conscious effort. This needs not bring on physical, psychological, or literally any pain at all.

 

In The mystery of pain (Life, XIX), it is not physical pain the poetic person means, as well. The verse elaborates on language as a cognitive device, in which Emily Dickinson could be recognized as a precursor.

 

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

 

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

 

There is not ― as there never has been ― pain, physical or psychological, without awareness of its beginning and source: at least in people capable of writing. However, if we look to language paradigms, we notice that verbs like to ache, in Polish boleć, Latin doleo, or Greek ponao, do not have the Passive. We do not say *we are ached, or *jesteśmy boleni.

 

Regarding the new periods of pain, we can exclude the female indisposition, in the light of awareness as above. Languages have their periods however, and those have happened to bring change in verb patterns, as Late Latin when compared with Old Latin, for example.

 

How is language a cognitive device here? Looking at charts that show language paradigms, for example, we can let free thought. Here, it would be that we do not have to learn everything by experience. For own good wit to motivate our lives — as inevitably, even if we take advice, it is us to take it — we can consider phenomena and make resolves. Finally, making a life painful would not make it meaningful (“an element of blank”).

 

Feel welcome to compare the free, creative thought on language paradigms, in other pieces.

 

 

I think Emily Dickinson loved language, reading and writing. It does not do her justice, to be presented as an eccentric who offers dust, or says she has physical pain over some centuries that have passed.

 

Finally, I have defined love of language myself.

 

LANGUAGE, noun, is an audible or visible letter shape or speech sound structuring of phonological, syntactic, and semantic integrity that can communicate thought as well as affect. Inner language is an internalized language form to prioritize syntax and semantics.

 

LOVE, noun, is a long-term attachment to involve active interest in good quality.

 

LOVE OF LANGUAGE, noun phrase, may express in reading, writing, publishing written matter, care for spoken qualities, as well as supporting the behaviors.

 

Obviously, we are free to have more than one love. 🙂

The thematic stanza for Emily Dickinson’s poetry

We may need to make up own minds over the stanza, for Emily Dickinson’s poetry. An authorial decision was impossible already with the first print. Not all poems were even titled by the poet.

 

The Higginson-Todd stanza happens to be arbitrary. The reservation is not on the punctuation only. Stanzas need to be integral components of meaning. The wind requires some thought on the comma and stanza end.

 

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There’s not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody
The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.

 

When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

 

I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,
As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.

 

The comma can mark a part of a train of thought:

 

When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

 

The comma would not work the same way in Success. Here, the comma marks an incomplete language structure:
not one / can tell / the definition / of victory/ comma /as he

 

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear!

 

The verse was reportedly published in “A Masque of Poets”, at the request of “H.H.,” the author’s fellow-townswoman and friend. It brings a picture of a brief and transient victory of the opposite side. Making my decision on the unitary, short form layout, I could follow the Houghton print image, as presented in Wikipedia.

 

houghton_72s-700_-_masque_of_poets_success

 

However, I keep the semantics of the Higginson-Todd as the one to make sense. Mistakes have happened in the media since their very beginnings. The final words as in the Houghton copy would have the one to define success experiencing uttermost failure. Opposite semantics never becomes misnomers, in Emily Dickinson’s writing.

 

The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.
(Higginson-Todd)

 

It was integrity of the thought to make me present the Psalm of the day as a 3×3 ― 6 ― 2×3 ― 6 layout. Feel welcome.

The conscious mind of Emily Dickinson

There is an occurrence in Emily Dickinson’s verse; it is beyond mere coincidence or unaware habit. Noticed, it helps see her light musing with Greek and Latin.

 

(Time and Eternity, XVIII, Playmates) Latin: collusor, companion at play; condiscipulus, school-mate; angelus, a messenger, an angel; lapillus, small stone, pebble (marble?); lusus, a game;  Greek: ὁμηλυσία, omelusia, companionship.

 

God permits industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, — forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightway.

 

God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing Crown!

 

The inspiration is morpho-phonemic. Let us try a few more pieces. (Life, XXIII, Unreturning) ἀνάπλυσις, anaplusis, washing or rinsing out; ἀνήλυσις, anelusis, going up, return; ἤλυσις, elusis, step, gait; lenunculus, a small sailing-vessel, bark, skiff (the toddling little boat).

 

‘T was such a little, little boat
That toddled down the bay!
‘T was such a gallant, gallant sea
That beckoned it away!

 

‘T was such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the coast;
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!

 

We can compare the Greek -upo/ypo- for I asked no other thing (Life, XII, p. 213): ἰσότυπος, isotypos, shaped alike, συνυπόπτωσις, synypoptosis, simultaneous presentation to the senses; Latin cauponarius, a male shopkeeper, tradesman, ποπτερνίς, upopternis, a knob (a kind of a button that can twirl, in the modern use), and πo, below, looking a picture up and down (as Brazil on a map).

 

I asked no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.

 

Brazil? He twirled a button,
Without a glance my way:
“But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show to-day?”

 

Feel also welcome to read Why I stay with the first print.

 

I bring an unaccustomed wine

I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching, next to mine,
And summon them to drink.

 

Crackling with fever, they essay;
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.

 

The hands still hug the tardy glass;
The lips I would have cooled, alas!
Are so superfluous cold,

 

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.

 

Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak.

 

And so I always bear the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake, —

 

If, haply, any say to me,
“Unto the little, unto me,”
When I at last awake.

 

*****

 

Przynoszę wino, niezwyczajnym
Przy moich, ustom długo obsychanym,
I naglę, by upiły łyk.

 

Próbują, gorączką kruszone;
Odwracam oczy załzawione,
Po godzinie, spoglądam.

 

Dłonie naczynie ściskają dalej;
Żal, usta które bym schładzała
Tak już przemarzłe,

 

Ogrzać je bym podejmowała
Jak serca, co zimnica uskładała
Na wieki, pod kurhanem.

 

Może innych też posiadło łaknienie
Którym na mnie by polecenie
Gdyby mówić dalej.

 

Noszę więc kubeczek
Gdyby mnie przyszło kropelkę
Dać pielgrzymiej suchocie, —

 

Gdyby komu do mnie rzec,
„Mnie, mi, drobinę”
Jak w końcu przytomnieję.

Let down the bars, O Death

Let down the bars, O Death!
The tired flocks come in
Whose bleating ceases to repeat,
Whose wandering is done.

 

Thine is the stillest night,
Thine the securest fold;
Too near thou art for seeking thee,
Too tender to be told.

 

*****

 

O Śmierci, zasuwy twe otwórz
Gromady zmęczone przychodzą
Co jęków nie ponawiają
Co ich wędrówce koniec.

 

Twoją najcichsza z nocy,
Twoją najtrwalsza zagroda;
Za bliskaś, by cię szukać
Za czuła, by cię rozpoznać.

Index, Life: Życie

I. SUCCESS: SUKCES

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed…

 

Sukces najwdzięczniejszy
Tym, co go nie odnieśli nigdy…

 

II. OUR SHARE OF NIGHT TO BEAR

Our share of night to bear,
Our share of morning…

 

Naszą nocy część nosić,
Naszą część świtania…

 

III. ROUGE ET NOIR

Soul, wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard…

 

Duszo, czy znów ciskać będziesz?
Przez samo takie ryzyko…

 

IV. ROUGE GAGNE

‘T is so much joy! ‘T is so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty…

 

Wesele jakie! Jakie wesele!
A jak przegram, to mizeria…

 

V. GLEE! THE GREAT STORM IS OVER

Glee! The great storm is over!
Four have recovered the land…

 

Koniec burzy piekielnej wreszcie!
Do lądu dotarło czterech…

 

VI. IF I CAN STOP ONE HEART FROM BREAKING

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain…

 

Jeśli choć jedno od załamania uratuję serce,
Już na darmo żyć nie będę…

 

VII. ALMOST: PRAWIE!

Within my reach!
I could have touched…

 

W dłoni zasięgu!
W dotyku mocy…

 

VIII. A WOUNDED DEER LEAPS HIGHEST

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I’ve heard the hunter tell…

 

Jeleń zraniony skacze najwyżej,
Jak mówi łowca, słyszałam…

 

IX. THE HEART ASKS PLEASURE FIRST

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain…

 

Serce przyjemności pragnie wpierw,
Potem, wymówki od bolenia…

 

X. IN A LIBRARY: W BIBLIOTECE

A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t is
To meet an antique book…

 

Cenną a tkliwą jest mi przyjemnością
Starego księgi druku napotkanie…

 

XI. MUCH MADNESS IS DIVINEST SENSE

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye…

 

W szaleństwie wiele jest duchowego zamysłu
Oku spostrzegawczemu…

 

XII. I ASKED NO OTHER THING

I asked no other thing,
No other was denied…

 

Niczego innego nie prosiłam,
Innego nie odmówiono niczego…

 

XIII. EXCLUSION: ZASTRZEŻENIE

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door…

 

Dusza wybiera towarzystwo swoje
Potem drzwi zamyka…

 

XIV. SECRET: SEKRET

Some things that fly there be, —
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee…

 

Są takie, co umykają wiele, —
Godziny, ptaki, trzmiele…

 

XV. THE LONELY HOUSE: SAMOTNY DOM

I know some lonely houses off the road
A robber ‘d like the look of…

 

Od tej drogi, znam takie domy samotne
Co rabuś by upodobał sobie…

 

XVI. TO FIGHT ALOUD IS VERY BRAVE

To fight aloud is very brave,
But gallanter, I know…

 

Walczyć głośno to odwaga
Ale słyszałam, jeszcze przystojniej…

 

XVII. DAWN: ŚWITANIE

When night is almost done,
And sunrise grows so near…

 

Kiedy noc prawie dokonana
A słońca wschód narasta z bliska…

 

XVIII. BOOK OF MARTYRS: KSIĘGA MĘCZENNIKÓW

Read, sweet, how others strove
Till we are stouter…

 

Czytaj, kochanie, jak inni walczyli,
Nim my teraz silniejsi…

 

XIX. THE MYSTERY OF PAIN: BOLENIA TAJEMNICA

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect…

 

Bolenie ma jaką pustkę;
Wskazać o sobie nie umie…

 

XX. I TASTE A LIQUOR NEVER BREWED

I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl…

 

Napoju kosztuję nigdy warzonego,
Z czarek perłą sadzonych…

 

XXI. A BOOK: KSIĘGA JAKA

He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust…

 

Posilił się i upoił słowy cennymi
Wzrósł w krzepę jego duch…

 

XXII. I HAD NO TIME TO HATE

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me…

 

Nie miałam czasu na nienawiść, bo
Grób byłby ograniczał mnie…

 

XXIII. UNRETURNING: BEZPOWROTNIE

‘T was such a little, little boat
That toddled down the bay…

 

Taka mała, mała łódeczka
Zatoczką podyrdała…

 

XXIV. WHETHER MY BARK WENT DOWN AT SEA

Whether my bark went down at sea,
Whether she met with gales…

 

Czy moja barka zatonęła na morzu,
Czy wichury napotkała…

 

XXV. BELSHAZZAR HAD A LETTER

Belshazzar had a letter, —
He never had but one…

 

Baltazar miał pismo, —
Jednoć miał wszelako…

 

XXVI. THE BRAIN WITHIN ITS GROOVE

The brain within its groove
Runs evenly and true…

 

Mózg w swoich zagłębieniach
Statecznie się ma i rzetelnie…

 

Index, Nature: Natura

I. NEW FEET WITHIN MY GARDEN GO

New feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod…

 

Nowe stopy chodzą po moim ogrodzie,
Myszkują w darni palce nowe…

 

II. MAY-FLOWER: NIESPODZIEWAJKA

Pink, small, and punctual,
Aromatic, low…

 

Malutka jak kropeczka i różana,
Niewysoka, a rozpachniana…

 

III. WHY: DLACZEGO?

The murmur of a bee
A witchcraft yieldeth me…

 

Pszczoły szeptanie
Takie daje mi czarowanie…

 

IV. PERHAPS YOU’D LIKE TO BUY A FLOWER

Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower?
But I could never sell…

 

A może tobie by kwiat kupić?
Ale ja na sprzedaż nie mam…

 

V. THE PEDIGREE OF HONEY

The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee…

 

Miodu znak firmowy
Nie kłopocze pana pszczoły…

 

VI. A SERVICE OF SONG: PIOSNKĄ POSŁUŻENIE

Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home…

 

Jedni idą w Szabas do kościoła;
Ja w domu przestrzegam …

 

VII. THE BEE IS NOT AFRAID OF ME

The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly…

 

Pszczoła się mnie nie boi
Znam się z motylem…

 

VIII. SUMMER’S ARMIES: LETNIE ZASTĘPY

Some rainbow coming from the fair!
Some vision of the world Cashmere…

 

Tęcza wraca z kiermaszu właśnie!
Widok jaki na światowy kaszmir…

 

IX. THE GRASS: TRAWY

The grass so little has to do, —
A sphere of simple green…

 

Trawy tyle zajęcia mają tylko, —
Proste to grono zieleni…

 

X. A LITTLE ROAD NOT MADE OF MAN

A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye…

 

Dróżka co jej człek nie zrobił,
Oku dostępna…

 

XI. SUMMER SHOWER: LETNI KAPUŚNIACZEK

A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof…

 

Spadła kropelka na jabłonkę,
Na dach kolejna…

 

XII. PSALM OF THE DAY: CHORAŁ DNIA

A something in a summer’s day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away…

 

Cosik w dobie letniej,
Powolne jak pochodni jej gaśnięcie…

 

XIII. THE SEA OD SUNSET: ZACHODU SŁOŃCA MORZE

This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea…

 

Oto ląd, co je zachód słońca obmywa,
Oto brzegi Żółtego Morza…

 

XIV. PURPLE CLOVER: PĄSOWA DZIĘCIELINA

There is a flower that bees prefer,
And butterflies desire…

 

Jest kwiat co go pszczoły wolą,
A motyle pożądają…

 

XV. THE BEE: PAN PSZCZOŁA

Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee…

 

Jak wagonów sznur na pluszowych szynach
Pana pszczołę ospałego słyszę…

 

XVI. PRESENTIMENT: PRZECZUCIE

Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
Indicative that suns go down…

 

Przeczucie to na trawniku cień długi
Co mówi, że zachodzą słońca już …

 

XVII. AS CHILDREN BID THE GUEST GOODNIGHT

As children bid the guest good-night,
And then reluctant turn…

 

Jak dzieci co mówią gościom dobranoc,
I niechętnie się odwracają…

 

XVIII. ANGELS IN THE EARLY MORNING

Angels in the early morning
May be seen the dews among…

 

Aniołki wczesnym rankiem
Widać pomiędzy rosami…

 

XIX. SO BASHFUL WHEN I SPIED HER

So bashful when I spied her,
So pretty, so ashamed…

 

Nieśmiała tak, gdy ją wyśledziłam!
Śliczna, a tak wstydliwa…

 

XX. TWO WORLDS: DWA ŚWIATY

It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same…

 

W polach szerokich różnicy to nie robi,
Tak samo przychodzą pory roku…

 

XXI. THE MOUNTAIN: GÓRA

The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair…

 

Górski masyw siadł na równinie,
Siedzisku jego wiecznym…

 

XXII. A DAY: DZIEŃ

I’ll tell you how the sun rose, —
A ribbon at a time…

 

Powiem ci, jak wzeszło słońce, —
Wstążeczka po wstążeczce…

 

XXIII. THE BUTTERFLY’S ASSUMPTION-GOWN

The butterfly’s assumption-gown,
In chrysoprase apartments hung…

 

Motyla szatka stylu a-priori,
Co wisi w komnatkach chryzoprazowych…

 

XXIV. THE WIND: WIATR

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There’s not a charge to me…

 

Z tych co się szeroko roznoszą dźwięków
Nie ma mi zawołania…

 

XXV. DEATH AND LIFE: ŚMIERĆ I ŻYCIE

Apparently with no surprise
To any happy flower…

 

Bez siurpryzy, najwyraźniej
Kontentemu kwiatkowi…

 

XXVI. ‘T WAS LATER WHEN THE SUMMER WENT

‘T was later when the summer went
Than when the cricket came…

 

To było potem, jak lato poszło sobie
Niż kiedy przyszedł sobie świerszcz…

 

XXVII. INDIAN SUMMER: ZADUSZKOWE LATO

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two…

 

To w takie dni ptaki wracają
Jeden czy dwa, bardzo niewiele…

 

XXVIII. AUTUMN: JESIEŃ

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown…

 

Niż były, ranki są łagodniejsze
Orzechy zbrązowiały…

 

XXIX. BECLOUDED: NIEPOGODA

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow…

 

Niebo jest blisko a chmury podłe,
Płatek śniegu podróżny…

 

XXX. THE HEMLOCK: CHOINA

I think the hemlock likes to stand
Upon a marge of snow…

 

Tak myślę, że choina lubi stać
Na śniegu peryferii…

 

XXXI. THERE’S A CERTAIN SLANT OF LIGHT

There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons…

 

Jest taki kąt co światło pada,
W popołudnia zimowe…