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Emily Dickinson - Poesias

Emily Dickinson, poesie N. 1127-1133-1155-1158-1159-1212-1242-1247-1253-1259-1266

Emily Dickinson, poesias N. 1127-1133-1155-1158-1159-1212-1242-1247-1253-1259-1266

Rubrica di letteratura "Chaminar e Pensar" traduzione in lingua occitana a cura di Peyre Anghilante

Emily Dickinson, poesie N. 1127-1133-1155-1158-1159-1212-1242-1247-1253-1259-1266
English

1127

Soft as the massacre of Suns

By Evening’s Sabres slain


1133

The snow that never drifts –

The transient, frag(r)ant snow

That comes a single time a Yer

Is softly driving niw –

So thorough in the Tree

At night bebeath the star

That it was Febuary’Foot

Experience could swear –

Like Winter as a Face

We stern and former knew

Repaired of all but Loleliness

By Natures’Alibi –

Were every sorm so spice

The Value could not be –

We buy with contrast – Pang is good

As near as memory – 


1155

Distance – is not the Realm of Fox

Nor By Relay of Bird

Abated – Distance is

Until thyself, Beloved.


1158

Best Withcraft is Geometry

To the magician’s mind –

His ordinary acts are feats

To thinking of mankind


1159

Greats Streets of silenc led away

To Neighborhoods of Pause –

Here was no Notice – no Dissent

No Universe – no Laws –

By Clocks, ’Twas Morning, and for Night

The Bells at Distance called –

But Epoch had no basis here

For Period exhaled.


1212

A word is dead

When it is said

Some say.

I Say it just

Begins to live

That day.


1242

To flee from memory

Had we the Wings

Many Would fly

Inured to slower things

Birds with dismay

Would scan the mighty van

Of men escaping

From the mind of man


1247

To pile like Thunder to it’s close

Then crumble grand away

While Everything created hid

This – would be Poetry –

Or Love – the two coeval come –

We both and neither prove –

Experience either and consume –

For None see God and live – 


1253

Had this one Day not been,

Or could it cease to be

How smitten, how superfluous,

Were every other Day!

Lest Love should value less

What Loss would value more

Had in the stricken privilege,

It cherishes before.


1259

A Wind that rose

Though not a Leaf

In any Forest stirred

But with itself did cold engage

Beyond the Realm of Bird –

A Wind that woke a lone Delight

Like separation’s Swell

Restored in Arctic Confidence

To the Invisible – 


1266

When memory is full

Put on the perfect Lid –

This Morning’s finest syllable

Presumptuous Evening said –

occitan

1127

Sople coma lo massacre di solelhs

trucidats dai sabres de la sera


1133

La neu que jamai s’amolona,

la neu passatgiera, flairanta

que ven masque un bòt a l’an

chei aüra doçament.

N’es tan emplenit l’àrbol

de nuech dessot l’estèla

qu’es la peaa de febrier,

l’experiença juraria.


Coma un morre uvernenc

que sevèr e ancian avem conoissut

gandit de tot enfòra de la solituda

dal pretèxt de la natura.


Se chasque tempèsta foguesse tant especiaa,

auria pas la mesma valor –

achatem embe lo contraste – la pena es bòna

tant mai pròcha es la memòria –


1155

Distança es pas lo rènhe de la volp,

ni da un relais d’aucèls

abatua – la distança es

fins a tu, mon amor.


1158

La melhora mascharia es geometria

per la ment dal magician.

Si acts ordinaris son de trionfs

per lo pensier de l’umanitat.


1159

Grands chamins de silenci menavon

a de borjaas de calma.

Pas gis de nòvas, ni de descòrdias,

ni d’univèrs, ni de leis.

Lhi relòtges dision lo matin

e daluenh las clòcas sonavon la nuech.

Mas aicí lo temp avia pas de basa,

tot periòde era exalat. 


1212

Una paraula es mòrta

quora es dicha,

n’a que dison.

Mi diso totun

que comença a viure

pròpi aquel jorn.


1242

Se per s’envolar de la memòria

auguéssem las alas

en qué tanti volaríem

Acostumats a de causa mai lentas

lhi aucèls esfraiats

agacharion la poderosa carovana

de lhi òmes en fuga

da la ment de l’òme


1247

S’acumular coma un tròn sus sa fin

e puei se desagregar grandiosament

mentre tota causa creaa se trescond -

aiçò seria la poesia

o l’amor – já que lhi dui venon ensem –

nos ambedui o degun provem

l’un, l’autre experimentem e consumem –

perqué degun ve Diu e puei viu.


1253

Se lhi auguesse pas agut aqueste jorn unenc,

o polguesse quitar d’exíster

qué tan batut, qué tant sobrenc,

seria tot autre jorn!


Per que l’amor estime pas menc

çò que la pèrda estimaria de mai

se n’auguesse lo dolent privilègi,

én lo ten char a l’avança. 


1259

Un vent se levet

ben que gis de fuelha

tramolesse en degun bòsc

e embe el mesme frèid s’engatget

delai dal reialme di aucèls.

Un vent que revelhet una jòia solitària

coma l’ondaa de la separacion

restaurat a l’àrtica confidença

embe l’invisible.


1266

Quora es plena la memòria

buta lo just curbecèl –

la sillaba pus dòuça d’aqueste matin

l’a prononciaa la sera presomptuosa –