201c. 1860 / 1890

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar –
Until the morning sun –
When One – turned smiling to the land –
Oh God! the Other One!

The stray ships – passing –
Spied a face –
Upon the waters borne –
With eyes in death – still begging raised –
And hands – beseeching – thrown!

201JŠ99

Dva plavci rvou se na trámu,
než začne svítat den,
kdy jeden, šťasten, spatří břeh –
však druhý, Bože! Ten!

Zbloudilé lodi
zhlédly tvář
na vodách nesenou,
z níž zrak dál prosil o život –
a ruku vztaženou.

202c. 1860 / 1945

My Eye is fuller than my vase –
Her Cargo – is of Dew –
And still – my Heart – my Eye outweighs –
East India – for you!

203c. 1860 / 1945

He forgot – and I – remembered –
’Twas an everyday affair –
Long ago as Christ and Peter –
“Warmed them” at the “Temple fire.”

“Thou wert with him” – quoth “the Damsel”?
“No” – said Peter, ’twasn’t me –
Jesus merely “looked” at Peter –
Could I do aught else – to Thee?

204c. 1860 / 1935

A slash of Blue –
A sweep of Gray –
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky –
A little purple – slipped between –
Some Ruby Trousers hurried on –
A Wave of Gold –
A Bank of Day –
This just makes out the Morning Sky.

204JH48

Pruh modré, šmouha šedivé!
Pár záplat z nachu na cestě
a to je nebe na večer!

Purpuru trochu prolíná,
rudé spodky jej dohání,
břeh dne a vlna zlata, —
je ranní obloha!

204EK06

Blankytný řez –
šedavý lem –
pár lila záplat cestou sem
a máš večerní nebe hned –
přimíchat kapku šarlatu –
navléknout rudé kalhoty –
pár zlatých vln –
mělčina dne –
z toho je ranní nebe hned.

205c. 1860 / 1891

I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because – because if he should die
While I was gone – and I – too late –
Should reach the Heart that wanted me –

If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted – hunted so – to see –
And could not bear to shut until
They “noticed” me – they noticed me –

If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I’d come – so sure I’d come –
It listening – listening – went to sleep –
Telling my tardy name –

My Heart would wish it broke before –
Since breaking then – since breaking then –
Were useless as next morning’s sun –
Where midnight frosts – had lain!

206c. 1860 / 1935

The Flower must not blame the Bee –
That seeketh his felicity
Too often at her door –

But teach the Footman from Vevay –
Mistress is “not at home” – to say –
To people – any more!

207c. 1860 / 1891

Tho’ I get home how late – how late –
So I get home – ’twill compensate –
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me –
When Night – descending – dumb – and dark –
They hear my unexpected knock –
Transporting must the moment be –
Brewed from decades of Agony!

To think just how the fire will burn –
Just how long‑cheated eyes will turn –
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me –
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

208c. 1860 / 1891

The Rose did caper on her cheek –
Her Bodice rose and fell –
Her pretty speech – like drunken men –
Did stagger pitiful –

Her fingers fumbled at her work –
Her needle would not go –
What ailed so smart a little Maid –
It puzzled me to know –

Till opposite – I spied a cheek
That bore another Rose –
Just opposite – Another speech
That like the Drunkard goes –

A Vest that like her Bodice, danced –
To the immortal tune –
Till those two troubled – little Clocks
Ticked softly into one.

209c. 1860 / 1945

With thee, in the Desert –
With thee in the thirst –
With thee in the Tamarind wood –
Leopard breathes – at last!

209  VolnostJH77

S tebou v poušti,
s tebou v žízni,
s tebou v lese tamarindů,
tam teprve leopard volně vydechne!

210c. 1860 / 1891

The thought beneath so slight a film –
Is more distinctly seen –
As laces just reveal the surge –
Or Mists – the Apennine

210JŠ99

Myšlenku v lehkém povlaku
je vidět jasněji –
tak jako z krajek dmutí vln,
či z mlh pás Apenin.

211c. 1860 / 1890

Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums –
Counts his nectars –
Enters – and is lost in Balms.

212c. 1860 / 1945

Least Rivers – docile to some sea.
My Caspian – thee.

213c. 1860 / 1891

Did the Harebell loose her girdle
To the lover Bee
Would the Bee the Harebell hallow
Much as formerly?

Did the “Paradise” – persuaded –
Yield her moat of pearl –
Would the Eden be an Eden,
Or the Earl – an Earl?

214c. 1860 / 1861

I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of Air – am I –
And Debauchee of Dew –
Reeling – thro endless summer days –
From inns of Molten Blue –

When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door –
When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” –
I shall but drink the more!

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
And Saints – to windows run –
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the – Sun –

214  Popíjam vzácne nápojeMR83

Popíjam vzácne nápoje
z džbánov, čo vznikli z perál.
Sotva by sa s tým vínny mok
z porýnskych pivníc meral.

Som vonným vzduchom opitá
a hýrim v rose z lúčin,
tackám sa večným letným dňom
z krčiem, kde blankyt blčí.

Až spitú včelu vyhodí
náprstník‑krčmár z dverí
a motýľ vzdá sa „tuhého“,
prisajem k vínu pery!

A budem piť, kým anjel
mi nezamáva klobúkom
a svätí neuvidia,
že opieram sa o slnko.

214  Májové vínoJŠ67

Okouším vzácný vinný druh
z perlových korbelů –
révoví od Frankfurtu
ten mok by nedalo!

Vášnivý hltoun vzdušných vín,
piják ros úsvitu,
vrávorám věčným letním dnem
z výčepů blankytu.

Když zpitou včelu náprstník
vyhodí ze dveří,
když motýl nechá kořalky –
já piji víc než dřív!

Až seraf mává kloboukem
a svatí seshora
žasnou, jak malý pijan
se sluncem vrávorá!

214JŠ99

Okouším vzácný vinný druh
z perlových korbelů –
révoví od Frankfurtu
ten mok by nedalo!

Jsem piják vzduchu, zhýralec,
jenž s rosou ve sklínce
vrávorá věčným letním dnem
z modrého hostince.

Když zpitou včelu náprstník
vyhodí ze dveří,
když motýl nechá kořalky –
já piji víc než dřív!

Až seraf mává kloboukem
a každý svatý chce
vidět, jak malý pijan
se opřel o slunce.

215c. 1860 / 1945

What is – “Paradise” –
Who live there –
Are they “Farmers” –
Do they “hoe” –
Do they know that this is “Amherst” –
And that I – am coming – too –

Do they wear “new shoes” – in “Eden” –
Is it always pleasant – there –
Won’t they scold us – when we’re homesick –
Or tell God – how cross we are –

You are sure there’s such a person
As “a Father” – in the sky –
So if I get lost – there – ever –
Or do what the Nurse calls “die” –
I shan’t walk the “Jasper” – barefoot –
Ransomed folks – won’t laugh at me –
Maybe – “Eden” a’n’t so lonesome
As New England used to be!

216version of 1859 / 1862

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers –
Untouched by Morning
And untouched by Noon –
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection –
Rafter of satin,
And Roof of stone.

Light laughs the breeze
In her Castle above them –
Babbles the Bee in a stolid Ear,
Pipe the Sweet Birds in ignorant cadence –
Ah, what sagacity perished here!

216version of 1861 / 1890

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers –
Untouched by Morning –
And untouched by Noon –
Lie the meek members of the Resurrection –
Rafter of Satin – and Roof of Stone!

Grand go the Years – in the Crescent – above them –
Worlds scoop their Arcs –
And Firmaments – row –
Diadems – drop – and Doges – surrender –
Soundless as dots – on a Disc of Snow –

216, 216 b  SpícíJH77

Bezpečni ve svých úbělových pokojích,
nedotkne se jich ráno, nedotkne se jich poledne,
pokorně spí věříce ve vzkříšení,
krov saténový, střechu z kamene.

V slunečném zámku nad nimi se vánek směje;
do lhostejného ucha žvatlá včela;
zpívají něžní ptáci nevědomý nápěv, –
jaká moudrost tady zahynula!

Vznešené roky nad nimi jdou v mléčné dráze;
své oběhy světy hloubí a nebesa plují nahoře,
koruny padají a dóžata se vzdávají
neslyšně jak body v ledovém prostoře.

216ZH98

Bezpečni ve svých alabastrových komorách –
nedotčeni ránem
a nedotčeni polednem –
pokorní údové vzkříšení spí –
Saténová krokev,
střecha z kamene.

Zlehka směje se moucha
v svém hradě nad nimi –
Bzučí včela do tupého ucha,
zpívají ptáci v bezděčných kadencích –
Jaká tu zanikla pronikavost ducha!

216JŠ99

Jisti v svých síních z alabastru,
chráněni jitra
a chráněni dne,
tiše spí účastníci zmrtvýchstání –
krov z atlasu,
střecha z kamene.

Nad nimi směje se
vánek v svém hradě,
bezstarostně si trylkuje drozd,
breptají včely do tupých uší –
ó, co tu zhynulo za moudrost!

216 bEK06

Ukrytí ve svých bělostných síních,
netknuti ránem
a netknuti dnem,
pokorní poslové vzkříšení leží –
z atlasu krokev, krov z kamene!

Nad nimi roky obloukem plynou,
světy se klenou,
čas odplouvá pryč.
Klenoty klesnou a dóžata padnou
tiše jak tečky na sněžný terč.

2171861 / 1929

Savior! I’ve no one else to tell –
And so I trouble thee.
I am the one forgot thee so –
Dost thou remember me?
Nor, for myself, I came so far –
That were the little load –
I brought thee the imperial Heart
I had not strength to hold –
The Heart I carried in my own –
Till mine too heavy grew –
Yet – strangest – heavier since it went –
Is it too large for you?

2181861 / 1924

Is it true, dear Sue?
Are there two?
I shouldn’t like to come
For fear of joggling Him!
If I could shut him up
In a Coffee Cup,
Or tie him to a pin
Till I got in –
Or make him fast
To “Toby’s” fist –
Hist! Whist! I’d come!

219c. 1861 / 1891

She sweeps with many‑colored Brooms –
And leaves the Shreds behind –
Oh Housewife in the Evening West –
Come back, and dust the Pond!

You dropped a Purple Ravelling in –
You dropped an Amber thread –
And now you’ve littered all the East
With Duds of Emerald!

And still, she plies her spotted Brooms,
And still the Aprons fly,
Till Brooms fade softly into stars –
And then I come away –

220c. 1861 / 1932

Could I – then – shut the door –
Lest my beseeching face – at last –
Rejected – be – of Her?

221c. 1861 / 1891

It can’t be “Summer”!
That – got through!
It’s early – yet – for “Spring”!
There’s that long town of White – to cross –
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can’t be “Dying”!
It’s too Rouge –
The Dead shall go in White –
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!

221  To není létoJŠ67

To není léto,
je už pryč.
Do jara času dost.
Dřív městem běli projdeme,
než začne zpívat kos.
To není mření,
tento nach,
šat zemřelých je běl!
Tu západ páskou z topasu
můj dotaz uzavřel.

221JŠ06

To není „léto“!
Je už pryč!
Do „jara“ času dost!
Dřív městem běli projdeme,
než začne zpívat kos!
To není „mření“,
tento nach –
šat zemřelých je běl.
Tu západ přezkou z topasu
můj dotaz uzavřel!

222c. 1861? / 1931

When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side,
When Katie runs unwearied they follow on the road,
When Katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee –
Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, with two so knit to thee!

223c. 1861 / 1929

I Came to buy a smile – today –
But just a single smile –
The smallest one upon your face
Will suit me just as well –
The one that no one else would miss
It shone so very small –
I’m pleading at the “counter” – sir –
Could you afford to sell –

I’ve Diamonds – on my fingers –
You know what Diamonds are?
I’ve Rubies – like the Evening Blood –
And Topaz – like the star!
’Twould be “a Bargain” for a Jew!
Say – may I have it – Sir?

224c. 1861 / 1929

I’ve nothing else – to bring, You know –
So I keep bringing These –
Just as the Night keeps fetching Stars
To our familiar eyes –

Maybe, we shouldn’t mind them –
Unless they didn’t come –
Then – maybe, it would puzzle us
To find our way Home –

225c. 1861 / 1945

Jesus! thy Crucifix
Enable thee to guess
The smaller size!

Jesus! thy second face
Mind thee in Paradise
Of ours!

2261861 / 1955

Should you but fail at – Sea –
In sight of me –
Or doomed lie –
Next Sun – to die –
Or rap – at Paradise – unheard
I’d harass God
Until he let you in!

2271861 / 1894

Teach Him – When He makes the names
Such an one – to say –
On his babbling – Berry – lips –
As should sound – to me –
Were my Ear – as near his nest –
As my thought – today –
As should sound –
“Forbid us not” –
Some like “Emily.”

228c. 1861 / 1864

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple
Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
Then at the feet of the old Horizon
Laying her spotted Face to die

Stooping as low as the Otter’s Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone

228  SlunceJH77

Září zlatem a zhasne v purpuru,
skočí jak leopard na oblohu,
potom položí skvrnitou tvář
před smrtí k starému obzoru,
nahlédne do okna vydry,
dotkne se střechy, zbarví stodolu,
zamává čepičkou na louku,
a už je pryč, ten šašek dne.

2291861 / 1945

A Burdock – clawed my Gown –
Not Burdock’s – blame –
But mine
Who went too near
The Burdock’s Den

A Bog – affronts my shoe –
What else have Bogs – to do
The only Trade they know
The splashing Men!
Ah, pity – then!

’Tis Minnows can despise!
The Elephant’s – calm eyes
Look further on!

230c. 1861 / 1929

We – Bee and I – live by the quaffing –
’Tisn’t all Hock – with us –
Life has its Ale
But it’s many a lay of the Dim Burgundy –
We chant – for cheer – when the Wines – fail –

Do we “get drunk”?
Ask the jolly Clovers!
Do we “beat” our “Wife”?
I – never wed –
Bee – pledges his – in minute flagons –
Dainty – as the tress – on her deft Head –

While runs the Rhine –
He and I – revel –
First – at the vat – and latest at the Vine –
Noon – our last Cup –
“Found dead” – “of Nectar” –
By a humming Coroner –
In a By‑Thyme!

231c. 1861 / 1890

God permits industrious Angels –
Afternoons – to play –
I met one – forgot my Schoolmates –
All – for Him – straightway –

God calls home – the Angels – promptly –
At the Setting Sun –
I missed mine – how dreary – Marbles
After playing Crown!

232c. 1861 / 1891

The Sun – just touched the Morning –
The Morning – Happy thing –
Supposed that He had come to dwell
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer
A Raised – Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth – for Her – What Holiday!
Meanwhile – Her wheeling King –
Trailed – slow – along the Orchards –
His haughty – spangled Hems –
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning – fluttered – staggered
Felt feebly – for Her Crown
Her unanointed forehead
Henceforth – Her only One!

233c. 1861 / 1935

The Lamp burns sure – within –
Tho’ Serfs – supply the Oil –
It matters not the busy Wick –
At her phosphoric toil!

The Slave – forgets – to fill –
The Lamp – burns golden – on –
Unconscious that the oil is out –
As that the Slave – is gone.

233JŠ99

Lampa žhne ze sebe –
ač otrok chodí lít
olej, knot proto nemění
svůj fosforový svit!

Pak sluha zapomněl –
lampa žhne zlatě dál,
neví, že olej vyhořel
a sluha – dokonal.

234c. 1861 / 1945

You’re right – “the way is narrow” –
And “difficult the Gate” –
And “few there be” – Correct again –
That “enter in – thereat” –

’Tis Costly – So are purples!
’Tis just the price of Breath
With but the “Discount” of the Grave
Termed by the Brokers“Death”!

And after that – there’s Heaven –
The Good Man’s – “Dividend”
And Bad Men – “go to Jail” –
I guess –

235c. 1861 / 1945

The Court is far away –
No Umpire – have I –
My Sovereign is offended –
To gain his grace – I’d die!

I’ll seek his royal feet –
I’ll say – Remember – King –
Thou shalt – thyself – one day – a Child –
Implore a larger – thing –

That Empire – is of Czars –
As small – they say – as I –
Grant me – that day – the royalty –
To intercede – for Thee

236c. 1861 / 1935

If He dissolve – then – there is nothing – more
Eclipse – at Midnight
It was dark – before

Sunset – at Easter
Blindness – on the Dawn
Faint Star of Bethlehem –
Gone down!

Would but some God – inform Him –
Or it be too late!
Say – that the pulse just lisps
The Chariots wait

Say – that a little life – for His
Is leaking – red
His little Spaniel – tell Him!
Will He heed?

237c. 1861 / 1891

I think just how my shape will rise –
When I shall be “forgiven”
Till Hair – and Eyes – and timid Head –
Are out of sight – in Heaven –

I think just how my lips will weigh –
With shapeless – quivering – prayer –
That you – so late – “Consider” me
The “Sparrow” of your Care –

I mind me that of Anguish – sent –
Some drifts were moved away –
Before my simple bosom – broke –
And why not this – if they?

And so I con that thing – “forgiven”
Until – delirious – borne –
By my long bright – and longer – trust
I drop my Heart – unshriven!

238c. 1861 / 1945

Kill your Balm – and its Odors bless you –
Bare your Jessamine – to the storm –
And she will fling her maddest perfume –
Haply – your Summer night to Charm –

Stab the Bird – that built in your bosom –
Oh, could you catch her last Refrain –
Bubble! “forgive” – “Some better” – Bubble!
“Carol for Him – when I am gone”!

239c. 1861 / 1896

“Heaven” – is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree –
Provided it do hopeless – hang –
That – “Heaven” is – to Me!

The Color, on the Cruising Cloud –
The interdicted Land –
Behind the Hill – the House behind –
There – Paradise – is found!

Her teasing Purples – Afternoons –
The credulous – decoy –
Enamored – of the Conjuror –
That spurned us – Yesterday!

239JŠ06

„Nebe“ je to, nač nestačím!
Jablko na stromě –
visí‑li příliš vysoko –
to „nebem“ zdá se mně!

Tón křižujících oblaků,
a zakázaná zem
za kopcem – domem vzdáleným –
tam ráj se nalezne!

Svým svůdným nachem odpůldnů
zve důvěřivé dál,
okouzlené kouzelníkem,
jenž včera se nás vzdal!

240c. 1861 / 1935

Ah, Moon – and Star!
You are very far –
But were no one
Farther than you –
Do you think I’d stop
For a Firmament –
Or a Cubit – or so?

I could borrow a Bonnet
Of the Lark –
And a Chamois’ Silver Boot –
And a stirrup of an Antelope –
And be with you – Tonight!

But, Moon, and Star,
Though you’re very far –
There is one – farther than you –
He – is more than a firmament – from Me –
So I can never go!

241c. 1861 / 1890

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it’s true –
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe –

The Eyes glaze once – and that is Death –
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.

241  Rada sa dívam na agóniuMR83

Rada sa dívam na agóniu,
lebo viem, že je pravá:
nik nehanbí sa za kŕče
a nepredstiera záchvat.

Oči sa skalia raz — a to je smrť.
A nikto nevymyslí
perličky potu na čele,
ktoré tam údes prišil.

241JŠ99

Jsem ráda při agónii
pro její věrnou řeč.
Kdo by hrál zápas smrti
a simuloval křeč?

Pak zesklí zrak – a to je smrt.
Nemožno předstírat
ty perly, které na skráň
pověsí všední strach.

241EK06

Mám ráda pohled trpících –
vím, že je upřímný:
sotva lze simulovat křeč
či zahrát záškuby.

Jedinkrát oči zeskelní – a přijde smrt –
nelze jen předstírat
korálky, které na čelo
navléká hrůzný strach.

242c. 1861 / 1945

When we stand on the tops of Things –
And like the Trees, look down –
The smoke all cleared away from it –
And Mirrors on the scene –

Just laying light – no soul will wink
Except it have the flaw –
The Sound ones, like the Hills – shall stand –
No Lightning, scares away –

The Perfect, nowhere be afraid –
They bear their dauntless Heads,
Where others, dare not go at Noon,
Protected by their deeds –

The Stars dare shine occasionally
Upon a spotted World –
And Suns, go surer, for their Proof,
As if an Axle, held –

243c. 1861 / 1929

I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent –
To wrap its shining Yards –
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear –
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail – Or Carpenter –
But just the miles of Stare –
That signalize a Show’s Retreat –
In North America –

No Trace – no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring – no Marvel –
Men, and Feats –
Dissolved as utterly –
As Bird’s far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue –
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety –
Then swallowed up, of View.

243JH48

Viděla jsem Nebe jako stan,
zahalovalo svítící tyče,
vytrhávalo kolíky,
mizelo beze zvuku
bez stopy po hřebíku,
jen dlouhý úžas
hlásá odjezd cirkusu
v severní Americe.
Ani stopa, ani připomínka toho,
co včera tak zářilo,
pryč je manéž, pryč je zázrak;
lidé a jejich odvážné kousky
úplně zmizeli,
tak jako ptáka v dálkách
jen záblesk prozradí;
šplíchnutí vesel — smích,
a už je nedohledný.

243  MizeníJH77

Nebe – to je stan,
když sbalují zářící tyče,
vytrhávají kolíky a mizí –
prkna nezahřmotí,
nikde tesař, nikde šrámy po hřebech,
jen nekonečný úžas
jak po odjezdu cirkusu
v severní Americe.
Ani stopa, ani zdání po tom,
co včera oslňovalo,
pryč je manéž,
pryč je zázrak,
umělci a jejich kousky
se rozplynuli beze stopy
jako z dalekého letu ptáka
jen skvrnka zbývá.
Zašplíchla vesla, zazněl smích
nedozírnem pohlcen.

244c. 1861 / 1945

It is easy to work when the soul is at play –
But when the soul is in pain –
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult – then –

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind –
But Gimlets – among the nerve –
Mangle daintier – terribler –
Like a Panther in the Glove –

244JŠ99

Lehce práce jde, jestli si duše chce hrát,
však je‑li ustaraná,
jen slyšet, jak dává hračky pryč,
práci poznamená.

Snadno snáší se, bolí‑li kůže či kost,
však vrtáček uvnitř čiv
trhá jemněji, hrůzněji –
jako pardál v rukavici.

245c. 1861 / 1891

I held a Jewel in my fingers –
And went to sleep –
The day was warm, and winds were prosy –
I said “’Twill keep” –

I woke – and chid my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone –
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own –

245  Mala som v dlani drahý šperkMR83

Mala som v dlani drahý šperk,
keď som šla spať.
Bol teplý deň, nuž vravím si:
Vydrží snáď.

Vstala som, vyhrešila dlaň
— skvost zmizol sám.
Spomienka na ametyst: ech,
len to dnes mám.

245EK94

Měla jsem klenot ve svých prstech –
a šla jsem spát –
byl vlahý den a vítr ustal –
nač zavírat –

A ráno – vyčítám svým prstům,
skvost je ten tam –
a teď, vzpomínka z ametystu
je vše, co mám –

245EK06

Drahokam držela jsem v prstech –
usnula jsem.
Pročpak se bát – vál vlahý vánek,
byl teplý den.

A ráno – spílám svým ctnostným prstům,
skvost je ten tam.
Vždyť teď, vzpomínka z ametystu
je vše, co mám.

245ZH98

V prstech jsem klenot svírala
a šla jsem spát –
Byl teplý den a nudný van,
vydrží vítr vát?

Vstala jsem – prstům spílajíc –
tentam byl drahokam.
Ametystová vzpomínka
teď všechno je, co mám.

245JŠ99

Měla jsem v prstech drahý klenot
a šla jsem spát.
Byl teplý den, vál nudný vánek –
proč se oň bát?

Procitla jsem a lála prstům –
skvost byl tentam.
A v mysli stopa z ametystu
je vše, co mám.

246c. 1861 / 1929

Forever at His side to walk –
The smaller of the two!
Brain of His Brain –
Blood of His Blood –
Two lives – One Being – now –

Forever of His fate to taste –
If grief – the largest part –
If joy – to put my piece away
For that beloved Heart –

All life – to know each other –
Whom we can never learn –
And bye and bye – a Change –
Called Heaven –
Rapt Neighborhoods of Men –
Just finding out – what puzzled us –
Without the lexicon!

247c. 1861 / 1929

What would I give to see his face?
I’d give – I’d give my life – of course –
But that is not enough!
Stop just a minute – let me think!
I’d give my biggest Bobolink!
That makes two – Him – and Life!
You know who “June” is –
I’d give her
Roses a day from Zanzibar –
And Lily tubes – like Wells –
Bees – by the furlong –
Straits of Blue
Navies of Butterflies – sailed thro’ –
And dappled Cowslip Dells –

Then I have “shares” in Primrose “Banks” –
Daffodil Dowries – spicy “Stocks” –
Dominions – broad as Dew –
Bags of Doubloons – adventurous Bees
Brought me – from firmamental seas –
And Purple – from Peru –

Now – have I bought it –
“Shylock”? Say!
Sign me the Bond!
“I vow to pay
To Her – who pledges this
One hour – of her Sovereign’s face”!
Ecstatic Contract!
Niggard Grace!
My Kingdom’s worth of Bliss!

248c. 1861 / 1929

Why – do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing – too loud?
But – I can say a little “Minor”
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
Just – once – more –
Just – see – if I troubled them –
But don’t – shut the door!

Oh, if I – were the Gentleman
In the “White Robe” –
And they – were the little Hand – that knocked –
Could – I – forbid?

249c. 1861 / 1891autograf

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the Winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor – Tonight –
In Thee!

249  Divé nociJH77

Divé noci, divé noci!
S tebou být
byly by ty noci
naší rozkoší!

Pro srdce v přístavu
je zbytečný vítr,
k čemu kompas,
k čemu mapy!

Loďka pluje rájem –
ach, moře!
Jen v tobě zakotvit
dnes v noci!

249  Búrlivé nociMR83

Búrlivé noci, víchrivé!
Keby si pri mne ostať chcel,
búrlivé noci boli by
na rozkoš bohaté.

Víchry by iba hladili
srdce, čo kotví v prístave.
Čo podľa mapy, kompasu
bezpečne pristane…

K Edenu s tebou veslujem…
Ach, more, hore úplnok…
Kiež k tebe pripútaná som
po celú dnešnú noc!

250c. 1861 / 1935

I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
On their way to Yellower Climes –
Each – with a Robin’s expectation –
I – with my Redbreast –
And my Rhymes –

Late – when I take my place in summer –
But – I shall bring a fuller tune –
Vespers – are sweeter than Matins – Signor –
Morning – only the seed of Noon –

251c. 1861 / 1945

Over the fence –
Strawberries – grow –
Over the fence –
I could climb – if I tried, I know –
Berries are nice!

But – if I stained my Apron –
God would certainly scold!
Oh, dear, – I guess if He were a Boy –
He’d – climb – if He could!

251EK06

Tam za plotem
jahody jsou,
tam přes plot bych
přelezla – stačí to zkusit, já vím –
nechat je tam je hřích!

Však za flíček na zástěře
Bůh by mě pokáral!
A přece – kdyby On byl kluk,
mít možnost, taky by si dal!

252c. 1861 / 1891

I can wade Grief –
Whole Pools of it –
I’m used to that –
But the least push of Joy
Breaks up my feet –
And I tip – drunken –
Let no Pebble – smile –
’Twas the New Liquor –
That was all!

Power is only Pain –
Stranded, thro’ Discipline,
Till Weights – will hang –
Give Balm – to Giants –
And they’ll wilt, like Men –
Give Himmaleh –
They’ll Carry – Him!

252JŠ99

Žal přebrodím,
široký tok –
mám zkušenost,
však dotyk radosti
mi zmate krok
a klesám – zpitá.
Oblázku, nesměj se,
neznám ten likér –
to je vše!

Síla jsou bolesti,
jimž dodal lehkosti
návyk je nést.
Dej štěstí obru –
slaboch bude z něj.
Dej Himálaj –
ten pozvedne!

253c. 1861 / 1929

You see I cannot see – your lifetime –
I must guess –
How many times it ache for me – today – Confess –
How many times for my far sake
The brave eyes film –
But I guess guessing hurts –
Mine – get so dim!

Too vague – the face –
My own – so patient – covers –
Too far – the strength –
My timidness enfolds –
Haunting the Heart –
Like her translated faces –
Teasing the want –
It – only – can suffice!

254c. 1861 / 1891

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.

254JŠ99

„Naděje“ je to s křídly,
co hnízdí uvnitř nás
a pěje píseň beze slov
a stále zvedá hlas.

Ve vichru zpívá přesladce.
Bouře je ošklivá,
že se tak vrhá na ptáče,
jež duši zahřívá.

Slyšela jsem ho na mořích,
v zemi, již kryje led –
a ani v nouzi nejvyšší
neřeklo o drobek.

254EK06

„Naděje“ – ta má pírka
a v duši hřaduje
a zpívá píseň beze slov,
jež nikdy neztichne.

A sladce ve vichřici zní –
však bouře, ta je zlá,
že mohla ptáčka utrýznit,
jenž tolik srdcí hřál.

Slyšela jsem ho v pustině
i v dáli na moři –
však nikdy, v nouzi největší,
se k prosbě nesnížil.

255c. 1861 / 1935

To die – takes just a little while –
They say it doesn’t hurt –
It’s only fainter – by degrees –
And then – it’s out of sight –

A darker Ribbon – for a Day –
A Crape upon the Hat –
And then the pretty sunshine comes –
And helps us to forget –

The absent – mystic – creature –
That but for love of us –
Had gone to sleep – that soundest time –
Without the weariness –

256c. 1861 / 1945

If I’m lost – now
That I was found –
Shall still my transport be –
That once – on me – those Jasper Gates
Blazed open – suddenly –

That in my awkward – gazing – face –
The Angels – softly peered –
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared –
I’m banished – now – you know it –
How foreign that can be –
You’ll know – Sir – when the Savior’s face
Turns so – away from you –

257c. 1861 / 1929

Delight is as the flight –
Or in the Ratio of it,
As the Schools would say –
The Rainbow’s way –
A Skein
Flung colored, after Rain,
Would suit as bright,
Except that flight
Were Aliment –

“If it would last”
I asked the East,
When that Bent Stripe
Struck up my childish
Firmament –
And I, for glee,
Took Rainbows, as the common way,
And empty Skies
The Eccentricity –

And so with Lives –
And so with Butterflies –
Seen magic – through the fright
That they will cheat the sight –
And Dower latitudes far on –
Some sudden morn –
Our portion – in the fashion –
Done –

258c. 1861 / 1890

There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –
’Tis the Seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –

258  Kosé světloJH77

Znáte ten kosý dopad světla
za krátkých zimních dnů,
jež tísní jako tíže
chrámových chorálů?

Přichází z nebe; zraní nás,
leč jizvu nenajdem,
jen vevnitř rozpor zůstane,
co je za kterým významem.

Nikdo nás v tomhle nepoučí,
zpečetí jenom beznaději naši –
vznešené zdrcení,
jež se k nám shůry snáší.

Když na nás padá, naslouchá kraj,
stín dýchat ustane;
pak zmizí, zbude dálava,
jako když na smrt zíráme.

258  Šikmo svetlo dopadáMR83

Šikmo svetlo dopadá
za večerov zimných,
ťaží ako chorály,
náboženské hymny.

Je jak rana na nebi,
ale jazva nikde.
Mučíme sa v pochybách,
aký význam vyjde.

Nikto nám to nepovie,
na zúfalstve pečať:
vládcov žiaľ, čo stína nás
ako záblesk meča.

Dopadá, kraj načúva,
tiene mlčky žasnú.
Stratí sa — tá diaľka je
ako pohľad na smrť.

258JŠ99

Světlo mívá zvláštní sklon
v krátkých zimních dnech,
který tísní jako cent
tónů v chorálech.

Zraní nás božskou ranou –
bez stop po šrámu,
až na skrytou změnu
uvnitř významů.

Nedá se mu učit –
toť cejch marnosti –
ta svrchovaná muka,
daná z výsosti.

Přijde‑li, kraj sotva dýchá,
stíny jímá strach.
Mine‑li, toť dálka ticha
v mrtvých zorničkách.

259c. 1861 / 1891

Good Night! Which put the Candle out?
A jealous Zephyr – not a doubt –
Ah, friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The Angels – labored diligent –
Extinguished – now – for you!

It might – have been the Light House spark –
Some Sailor – rowing in the Dark –
Had importuned to see!
It might – have been the waning lamp
That lit the Drummer from the Camp
To purer Reveille!

260c. 1861 / 1890

Read – Sweet – how others – strove –
Till we – are stouter –
What they – renounced –
Till we – are less afraid –
How many times they – bore the faithful witness –
Till we – are helped –
As if a Kingdom – cared!

Read then – of faith –
That shone above the fagot –
Clear strains of Hymn
The River could not drown –
Brave names of Men –
And Celestial Women –
Passed out – of Record
Into – Renown!

261c. 1861 / 1935

Put up my lute!
What of – my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive – as Granite – laps My Music –
Sobbing – will suit – as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He – surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe – that – would awaken – them!

262c. 1861 / 1929

The lonesome for they know not What –
The Eastern Exiles – be –
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday –

And ever since – the purple Moat
They strive to climb – in vain –
As Birds – that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain –

The Blessed Ether – taught them –
Some Transatlantic Morn –
When Heaven – was too common – to miss –
Too sure – to dote upon!

263c. 1861 / 1935

A single Screw of Flesh
Is all that pins the Soul
That stands for Deity, to Mine,
Upon my side the Veil –

Once witnessed of the Gauze –
Its name is put away
As far from mine, as if no plight
Had printed yesterday,

In tender – solemn Alphabet,
My eyes just turned to see,
When it was smuggled by my sight
Into Eternity –

More Hands – to hold – These are but Two –
One more new‑mailed Nerve
Just granted, for the Peril’s sake –
Some striding – Giant – Love –

So greater than the Gods can show,
They slink before the Clay,
That not for all their Heaven can boast
Will let its Keepsake – go

264c. 1861 / 1935

A Weight with Needles on the pounds –
To push, and pierce, besides –
That if the Flesh resist the Heft –
The puncture – coolly tries –

That not a pore be overlooked
Of all this Compound Frame –
As manifold for Anguish –
As Species – be – for name –

265c. 1861 / 1891

Where Ships of Purple – gently toss –
On Seas of Daffodil –
Fantastic Sailors – mingle –
And then – the Wharf is still!

266c. 1861 / 1890

This – is the land – the Sunset washes –
These – are the Banks of the Yellow Sea –
Where is rose – or whither it rushes –
These – are the Western Mystery!

Night after Night
Her purple traffic
Strews the landing with Opal Bales –
Merchantmen – poise upon Horizons –
Dip – and vanish like Orioles!

267c. 1861 / 1945

Did we disobey Him?
Just one time!
Charged us to forget Him –
But we couldn’t learn!

Were Himself – such a Dunce –
What would we – do?
Love the dull lad – best –
Oh, wouldn’t you?

268c. 1861 / 1945

Me, change! Me, alter!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows –
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera –
At Day’s superior close!

269c. 1861 / 1935

Bound – a trouble –
And lives can bear it!
Limit – how deep a bleeding go!
So – many – drops – of vital scarlet –
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!

Tell it the Ages – to a cypher –
And it will ache – contented – on –
Sing – at its pain – as any Workman –
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

269JŠ99

Vymez ztrátu
a dá se přežít!
Urči, kam půjde v žíle řez!
Tolik a tolik kapek nachu.
V duši si veď
jako v algebře!

Oznam jí léta – do číslice,
a v klidu bude trpět dál.
Zpívej, když bolí – jako dělník,
když děláš vrub, že den zapadl!

270c. 1861 / 1929

One Life of so much Consequence!
Yet I – for it – would pay –
My Soul’s entire income
In ceaseless – salary –

One Pearl – to me – so signal –
That I would instant dive –
Although – I knew – to take it –
Would cost me – just a life!

The Sea is full – I know it!
That – does not blur my Gem!
It burns – distinct from all the row –
Intact – in Diadem!

The life is thick – I know it!
Yet – not so dense a crowd –
But Monarchs – are perceptible
Far down the dustiest Road!

271c. 1861 / 1896

A solemn thing – it was – I said –
A woman – white – to be –
And wear – if God should count me fit –
Her blameless mystery –

A hallowed thing – to drop a life
Into the purple well –
Too plummetless – that it return
Eternity – until –

I pondered how the bliss would look –
And would it feel as big –
When I could take it in my hand –
As hovering – seen – through fog –

And then – the size of this “small” life –
The Sages – call it small –
Swelled – like Horizons – in my vest
And I sneered – softly – “small”!

272c. 1861 / 1896

I breathed enough to take the Trick –
And now, removed from Air –
I simulate the Breath, so well –
That One, to be quite sure –

The Lungs are stirless – must descend
Among the Cunning Cells –
And touch the Pantomime – Himself,
How numb, the Bellows feels!

272JŠ99

Dýchám už dlouho – znám ten cvik.
Teď, když jsem bez vzduchu,
tak dobře hraji dýchání,
že kdo chce jistotu,

zda plíce stojí, musí sám
do jejich sklípků slézt
ohmatat si tu němohru.
Měchy jsou jako led!

273c. 1861 / 1891

He put the Belt around my life –
I heard the Buckle snap –
And turned away, imperial,
My Lifetime folding up –
Deliberate, as a Duke would do
A Kingdom’s Title Deed –
Henceforth, a Dedicated sort –
A Member of the Cloud.

Yet not too far to come at call –
And do the little Toils
That make the Circuit of the Rest –
And deal occasional smiles
To lives that stoop to notice mine –
And kindly ask it in –
Whose invitation, know you not
For Whom I must decline?

274c. 1861 / 1891

The only Ghost I ever saw
Was dressed in Mechlin – so –
He wore no sandal on his foot –
And stepped like flakes of snow –

His Gait – was soundless, like the Bird –
But rapid – like the Roe –
His fashions, quaint, Mosaic –
Or haply, Mistletoe –

His conversation – seldom –
His laughter, like the Breeze –
That dies away in Dimples
Among the pensive Trees –

Our interview – was transient –
Of me, himself was shy –
And God forbid I look behind –
Since that appalling Day!

275c. 1861 / 1890

Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!
Why, God, would be content
With but a fraction of the Life –
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 freckled Maiden,
Whose farthest of Degree,
Was – that she might –
Some distant Heaven,
Dwell timidly, with thee!

Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot!
Strain till your last Surmise –
Drop, like a Tapestry, away,
Before the Fire’s Eyes –
Winnow her finest fondness –
But hallow just the snow
Intact, in Everlasting flake –
Oh, Caviler, for you!

276c. 1861 / 1935

Many a phrase has the English language –
I have heard but one –
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue –

Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,
When the Tide’s a’ lull –
Saying itself in new inflection –
Like a Whippoorwill –

Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep –
Thundering its Prospective –
Till I stir, and weep –

Not for the Sorrow, done me –
But the push of Joy –
Say it again, Saxon!
Hush – Only to me!

277c. 1861 / 1891

What if I say I shall not wait!
What if I burst the fleshly Gate –
And pass escaped – to thee!

What if I file this Mortal – off –
See where it hurt me – That’s enough –
And wade in Liberty!

They cannot take me – any more!
Dungeons can call – and Guns implore
Unmeaning – now – to me –

As laughter – was – an hour ago –
Or Laces – or a Travelling Show –
Or who died – yesterday!

277  A čo ak poviemMR83

A čo ak poviem: Nepočkám!
Ak prekročím prah ľudských brán,
k tebe sa budem brodiť…

Odložím svoju smrteľnosť,
hľa, tu ma tlačí, mám jej dosť,
a vyjdem do slobody?

Už nechytia ma, nezničia!
Nech hrozia hrôzou v temniciach
— strach je mi teraz cudzí

ako smiech ešte pred chvíľou,
cirkus, či to, že zabilo
včera dvoch blízkych ľudí.

277JŠ99

Co, řeknu‑li, že nepočkám?
Co, vyrazím‑li z lidských bran
a k tobě zabočím?

Co, odložím‑li smrtelnost –
hleď, jak mě tísní, právě dost –
a volná vykročím?

Již nikdy se mne nezmocní!
Ať kobky zvou a pušky zní,
vše je tak vzdálené,

jak smích mi býval doposud,
či krajky, či vůz cirkusu,
či mrtví přátelé.

278c. 1861 / 1891

A shady friend – for Torrid days –
Is easier to find –
Than one of higher temperature
For Frigid – hour of Mind –

The Vane a little to the East –
Scares Muslin souls – away –
If Broadcloth Hearts are firmer –
Than those of Organdy –

Who is to blame? The Weaver?
Ah, the bewildering thread!
The Tapestries of Paradise
So notelessly – are made!

278  Snáze najdeš příteleYS99

Snáze najdeš chladného přítele, který by s tebou
Ve žhavý den byl.
Nežli vřelejšího
Do studených chvil.

Korouhev stočená k východu
Odstrašuje duše z mušelínu;
Jestliže hrudě ze sukna jsou statnější
Než ta z organtýnu.

Kdo za to může? Tkadlec?
Ach, proč nás nit mate jemně!
Tapiserie rajské
jsou utkány tak němě!

279c. 1861 / 1896

Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord,
Then, I am ready to go!
Just a look at the Horses –
Rapid! That will do!

Put me in on the firmest side –
So I shall never fall –
For we must ride to the Judgment –
And it’s partly, down Hill –

But never I mind the steepest –
And never I mind the Sea –
Held fast in Everlasting Race –
By my own Choice, and Thee –

Goodbye to the Life I used to live –
And the World I used to know –
And kiss the Hills, for me, just once –
Then – I am ready to go!

280c. 1861 / 1896

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –

280  Smuteční obřadJH77

Prožila jsem ten pohřeb ve svém mozku,
ty návštěvy, jichž kroky temně
po domě dupaly a dupaly,
až se to začlo prolamovat ve mně.

Když konečně se všichni usadili,
smuteční obřad tísnil moji duši
jako buben, který buší, stále buší,
div mi rozum neohluší.

Pak rakev zdvihli a já slyšela,
jak ve mně samé zas a zas
skřípají jejich boty z olova.
Leč prostorem znít začal jeden hlas

a nebe bylo velký zvon,
mé jsoucno nasloucháním hran,
mé tiché já nějakým cizincem,
jenž ztroskotal a zůstal tady sám.

A pak to prkno v mozku prasklo
a hloub a hloub jsem letěla,
co náraz, to byl jeden svět,
až jsem prošla vším – a už jsem věděla.

280  Pohreb sa konal v mojom mozguMR83

Pohreb sa konal v mojom mozgu.
Smútiaci vrázdili sa von a dnu,
dupali nahlas, až sa zdalo,
že vo mne prebúrajú podlahu.

A keď si všetci posadali,
smútočný obrad ako na bubon
začal biť, búšil, až sa zdalo,
že miesto mysle puknutý mám zvon.

Počula som, že zdvihli rakvu,
že mojou dušou prešli zasa tie
vŕzgavé čižmy z olova, čo…
A vtedy celý priestor začal znieť,

akoby nebo bolo zvonom
a bytie uchom, ušným bubienkom
a ja v tom tichu cudzím tvorom,
stroskotancom, čo sám sem utiekol.

Podlaha v mozgu povolila
a ja som padala a letela,
vždy na hlbší svet narazila,
kým nezmizlo, čo vždy som vedela.

280HU94

Já v Mozku Pohřeb cítila,
A Hosté smuteční
Chodili – stále chodili –
K Mysli mé neteční

Pak všichni usadili se
A Mší mě podlomí –
Halasnou – velmi halasnou –
Mé Smysly ochromí –

Já zvedat Truhlu slyšela,
Skřípla mi na Duši,
A opět Boty z Olova
Prostor ten – ohluší,

Nebesa jedním Zvonem jsou,
Bytosti, nic než Uši,
A já, a Ticho, divný Druh,
Samotní, jak se sluší –

Pak praskl Sloupek Rozumu,
Já padla níž, a níž –
A každým skokem zasáhla
Svět, Vědění – ta Tíž –

280ZH98

Cítila jsem, že někde v mozku
je pohřeb. Hosti tam a sem
šlapali ztěžka, až se zdálo,
že rozum prolomí se ven.

Když se pak všichni rozsadili
a bohoslužba začala bít
na buben, – tím bubnováním
ztratila má mysl cit.

A bylo slyšet skřípat truhlu,
jak po duši se smýká s ní.
Ty olověné boty! znovu,
zní celý prostor hranami.

V jediný zvon se slilo nebe
a bytí bylo už jen sluch.
Já s tichem, cizí divné plémě,
já ztroskotána sama, tu.

Propadala jsem níž a níže,
když prkno rozumu prasklo mi.
V pádu jsem o svět narážela
pak – zhaslo to, co rozum ví.

280JŠ99

V mozku jsem pohřeb cítila
a všude zněl náš dům
jen kroky, kroky – div že jsem
nepřišla o rozum.

Když hosty usadili,
tu rozduněl se vzduch
jakoby bubny – téměř mi
v tom hluku ztupěl duch.

Pak slyším zvedat truhlici
a skřípat přes duši
zase ty boty z olova.
Pak svět se rozbušil,

jako by nebe bylo zvon
a bytí pouze sluch
a já a ticho podivný,
sem vyvržený druh.

Pak prasklo prkno v rozumu
a já – vždy níž a níž –
jsem v každé hloubce našla svět
a poznala vše – až –

281c. 1861 / 1935

’Tis so appalling – it exhilarates –
So over Horror, it half Captivates –
The Soul stares after it, secure –
A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more –

To scan a Ghost, is faint –
But grappling, conquers it –
How easy, Torment, now –
Suspense kept sawing so –

The Truth, is Bald, and Cold –
But that will hold –
If any are not sure –
We show them – prayer –
But we, who know,
Stop hoping, now –

Looking at Death, is Dying –
Just let go the Breath –
And not the pillow at your Cheek
So Slumbereth –

Others, Can wrestle –
Yours, is done –
And so of Woe, bleak dreaded – come,
It sets the Fright at liberty –
And Terror’s free –
Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!

282c. 1861 / 1929

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand,
Until a sudden sky
Reveals the fact that One is rapt
Forever from the Eye –

Members of the Invisible,
Existing, while we stare,
In Leagueless Opportunity,
O’ertakeless, as the Air –

Why didn’t we detain Them?
The Heavens with a smile,
Sweep by our disappointed Heads
Without a syllable –

283c. 1861 / 1935

A Mien to move a Queen –
Half Child – Half Heroine –
An Orleans in the Eye
That puts its manner by
For humbler Company
When none are near
Even a Tear –
Its frequent Visitor –

A Bonnet like a Duke –
And yet a Wren’s Peruke
Were not so shy
Of Goer by –
And Hands – so slight –
They would elate a Sprite
With Merriment –

A Voice that Alters – Low
And on the Ear can go
Like Let of Snow –
Or shift supreme –
As tone of Realm
On Subjects Diadem –

Too small – to fear –
Too distant – to endear –
And so Men Compromise –
And just – revere –

284c. 1861 / 1945

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea –
Forgets her own locality –
As I – toward Thee –

She knows herself an incense small –
Yet small – she sighs – if All – is All
How larger – be?

The Ocean – smiles – at her Conceit –
But she, forgetting Amphitrite –
Pleads – “Me”?

285c. 1861 / 1929

The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune –
Because I grow – where Robins do –
But, were I Cuckoo born –
I’d swear by him –
The ode familiar – rules the Noon –
The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom –
Because, we’re Orchard sprung –
But, were I Britain born,
I’d Daisies spurn –
None but the Nut – October fit –
Because, through dropping it,
The Seasons flit – I’m taught –
Without the Snow’s Tableau
Winter, were lie – to me –
Because I see – New Englandly –
The Queen, discerns like me –
Provincially –

286c. 1861 / 1935

That after Horror – that ’twas us
That passed the mouldering Pier –
Just as the Granite Crumb let go –
Our Savior, by a Hair –

A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb –
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb –

The possibility – to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell –
Into Conjecture’s presence –
Is like a Face of Steel –
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin –
The Cordiality of Death –
Who drills his Welcome in –

286JŠ99

Ta hrůza potom – že tos ty
procházel pod trámem,
když se kus žuly uvolnil,
o vlas jím zachráněn.

Vteřinka – a byls vržen hloub,
než rybář spustí síť –
to pomyšlení dovede
v nás paměť umrtvit.

Možnost, tak rychle octnout se –
nežli se nadějem –
před výtvorem svých představ,
je jak tvář z ocele,
jež náhle hledí do naší
v kovovém úšklebu –
srdečnost smrti, jež si zde
cvičí svou návštěvu.

287c. 1861 / 1896

A Clock stopped –
Not the Mantel’s –
Geneva’s farthest skill
Can’t put the puppet bowing –
That just now dangled still –

An awe came on the Trinket!
The Figures hunched, with pain –
Then quivered out of Decimals –
Into Degreeless Noon –

It will not stir for Doctors –
This Pendulum of snow –
This Shopman importunes it –
While cool – concernless No –

Nods from the Gilded pointers –
Nods from the Seconds slim –
Decades of Arrogance between
The Dial life –
And Him –

287JŠ99

Stroj došel –
jiných hodin.
Ženevské nářadí
nevrátí úklon loutce,
jež visí bez vlády.

Děs padl na tu hračku!
Číslice zmučené
se schvěly z kruhu desetin
v bezúhlé poledne.

Nehne se pro lékaře
kyvadlo bělostné.
Kupec ho požaduje –
co chladné, tupé Ne

mdle kyne od ručiček,
mdle kyne od vteřin –
věk pýchy mezi životem
ciferníku
a Jím.

288c. 1861 / 1891

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – Too?
Then there’s a pair of us?
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

288  NikdoJH77

Jsem nikdo! Kdo jste vy?
Jste také nikdo?
Tak jsme dva. A ani muk.
To bychom odnesli.

Jak smutné někým být!
Jak žába, jež si kváká
celý červen svoje jméno
louži plné bláta.

288  Som niktoMR83

Som nikto. Kto si ty?
Aj ty si vari Nikto?
Takže sme dvaja. Ani muk!
Rozniesli by to rýchlo.

Byť niekto — smutná vec!
Ako žaba, čo kváka
po celý jún tým smerom, kde
obdivne čaká mláka.

288JŠ99

Jsem Nikdo! A kdo jste vy?
Jste též Nikdo – jak já?
Pak je nás tedy pár.
Však pst! – sic vyštvou oba dva!

Jak hrozné, býti osobnost!
Jak sprosté, zas a zas
volat své jméno s hlasy žab
na zbožňující hráz!

288EK06

Jsem Nikdo! Kdo jsi ty?
Tak ty jsi Nikdo též?
Takže jsme tedy dva?
Mlč! Než se to rozkřikne – vždyť víš!

Jak je to nudné – Někým být!
Jak žába – veřejné –
vyřknout své jméno napospas
pochlebné bažině!

289c. 1861 / 1890

I know some lonely Houses off the Road
A Robber’d like the look of –
Wooden barred,
And Windows hanging low,
Inviting to –
A Portico,
Where two could creep –
One – hand the Tools –
The other peep –
To make sure All’s Asleep –
Old fashioned eyes –
Not easy to surprise!

How orderly the Kitchen’d look, by night,
With just a Clock –
But they could gag the Tick –
And Mice won’t bark –
And so the Walls – don’t tell –
None – will –

A pair of Spectacles ajar just stir –
An Almanac’s aware –
Was it the Mat – winked,
Or a Nervous Star?
The Moon – slides down the stair,
To see who’s there!

There’s plunder – where –
Tankard, or Spoon –
Earring – or Stone –
A Watch – Some Ancient Brooch
To match the Grandmama –
Staid sleeping – there –

Day – rattles – too
Stealth’s – slow –
The Sun has got as far
As the third Sycamore –
Screams Chanticleer
“Who’s there”?

And Echoes – Trains away,
Sneer – “Where”!
While the old Couple, just astir,
Fancy the Sunrise – left the door ajar!

289  Domy na samotěJH77

Znám domy na samotě stranou cest,
kam se rádi plíží zloději –
dveře na dřevěnou závoru,
okna pootevřená,
všechno
zve na zápraží.

Tam mohou prolézt dva:
jeden s náčiním se činí,
druhý hlídá,
zda všechno spí.
Ty staré oči
se těžko překvapí!

Je noc a kuchyň uklizena,
hodiny tikají,
ale oni je mohou zastavit
a myši neštěkají;
ani zdi nic neřeknou,
nikdo nic.

Rozevřené brýle se zachvějí,
kalendář náhle ve střehu bdí.
Dala to rohožka znamení
či vzrušená hvězda?
Měsíc klouzá po schodišti,
aby viděl, kdo tu je.

Zde je kořist – kde?
Džbán či lžíce,
šperk a náušnice,

brož tak stará
jako ta babička,
která tu klidně spí.

Den už rachotí
a krádež se táhne;
slunce dosáhlo
až po třetí cypřiš.
Kohout křičí:
„Kdo tu je?“

A ozvěny vzdálených vlaků
se posmívají – „ale kde?“
Zatím stařečci právě procitli
a myslí, že to vycházející slunce
nechalo dveře dokořán!

289  Domy na samoteMR83

Poznám tie domy na samote,
s oknami nízko,
s dierou v plote
— drevená závora
zlodejov zavše priam
zavolá.

Dvaja ta vpadnú:
jeden sa oprie
o dvere a dnu
pustí sa kradnúť,
druhý zas ostrí zrak:
dom už spí, nečaká
na zázrak.

Kuchyňa zdá sa uprataná,
len tik‑tak hodín
ticho ráňa
— dajú sa umlčať,
myšky sa v dierach stien
budú báť.

Vtom — pohli sa to okuliare,
či v kalendári
starý list? Či
koberec žmurkol, hviezda rotuje?
Mesiac sa kĺže po schodoch,
chce vidieť, kto tu je.

Tu korisť — tá tu je,
lyžica, starý džbán,
náramok, drahokam,
hodinky, pradávna
brošňa — je stará ako tá
babka, čo pradie v snách.

Deň sa už zakráda,
pomaly, potajme,
slnko hneď dosiahne
platan. Koruna blkotá.
A kohút kontruje:
„Kto tu je?“

Ozveny, vlaky vzdialené,
sa smejú: „Ale kde?“
A starkí vstali. Čo to? Rám
dverí a slnko v ňom?
To ono nechalo ich dokorán.

290c. 1861 / 1896

Of Bronze – and Blaze –
The North – Tonight –
So adequate – it forms –
So preconcerted with itself –
So distant – to alarms –
An Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me –
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty –
Till I take vaster attitudes –
And strut upon my stem –
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them –

My Splendors, are Menagerie –
But their Competeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass –
Whom none but Beetles – know.

290  Severní zářeJH77

Dnes večer je severní nebe
z bronzu a žáru!
Soulad jeho tvarů
je obrácen jen v sebe,
vzdálen zmatku lidí země,
vznešený, lhostejný
je k vesmíru i ke mně,

až vše se ve mně šíří
a do mé prosté duše padá
odlesk jejich majestátu.
Na útlém stvolu půjdu s radostí,
lidí mi netřeba ni kyslíku
a jejich zpupnosti.

Zář ve mně je, pro ně jsem divé zvíře,
leč svou okázalostí ať baví
ještě celá staletí.
Já zatím jsem už dávno
opovrženou trochou trávy
jen s chudobkami v podletí.

290JŠ99

Plamen a bronz
je dnešní noc.
V tak přesném souladu,
tak přiměřeně ztvárněná,
tak prostá neklidu.
Královská povznesenost
nade mne, nad světy,
vdechla v mou prostou duši
nákazu hrdosti,
že pojala jsem širší vztah,
vztyčená na dříku,
s pohrdáním pro nadutost
lidí a kyslíku.

Mé nádhery jsou zvěřinec,
však z jejich divadla
se budou těšit staletí,
až – dávno rozpadlá –
budu jen ostrov prostých trav,
o nějž jen brouk tak dbá.

291c. 1861 / 1896

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
How the Hemlocks burn –
How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder
By the Wizard Sun –

How the old Steeples hand the Scarlet
Till the Ball is full –
Have I the lip of the Flamingo
That I dare to tell?

Then, how the Fire ebbs like Billows –
Touching all the Grass
With a departing – Sapphire – feature –
As a Duchess passed –

How a small Dusk crawls on the Village
Till the Houses blot
And the odd Flambeau, no men carry
Glimmer on the Street –

How it is Night – in Nest and Kennel –
And where was the Wood –
Just a Dome of Abyss is Bowing
Into Solitude –

These are the Visions flitted Guido –
Titian – never told –
Domenichino dropped his pencil –
Paralyzed, with Gold –

292c. 1861 / 1935

If your Nerve, deny you –
Go above your Nerve –
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve –

That’s a steady posture –
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms –
Best Giant made –

If your Soul seesaw –
Lift the Flesh door –
The Poltroon wants Oxygen –
Nothing more –

292JŠ99

Když tě zradí nervy –
proč bys nervů dbal?
O hrob smí se podepřít,
kdo se pádu bál.

To je pevný postoj.
Nikdo neklesl
z paží z mosazi,
jež obr skul.

Když duch vrávorá –
z vrat těla pryč!
Slaboch – chce hlt kyslíku,
víc už nic.

293c. 1861 / 1929

I got so I could take his name –
Without – Tremendous gain –
That Stop‑sensation – on my Soul –
And Thunder – in the Room –

I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned – how –
And all our Sinew tore –

I got so I could stir the Box –
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath –
As Staples – driven through –

Could dimly recollect a Grace –
I think, they call it “God” –
Renowned to ease Extremity –
When Formula, had failed –

And shape my Hands –
Petition’s way,
Tho’ ignorant of a word
That Ordination – utters –

My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair –
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery –
Itself, too vast, for interrupting – more –

294c. 1861 / 1929

The Doomed – regard the Sunrise
With different Delight –
Because – when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it –

The Man – to die – tomorrow –
Harks for the Meadow Bird –
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head –

Joyful – to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored – Day –
Joyful – for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!

295c. 1861 / 1935

Unto like Story – Trouble has enticed me –
How Kinsmen fell –
Brothers and Sister – who preferred the Glory –
And their young will
Bent to the Scaffold, or in Dungeons – chanted –
Till God’s full time –
When they let go the ignominy – smiling –
And Shame went still –

Unto guessed Crests, my moaning fancy, leads me,
Worn fair
By Heads rejected – in the lower country –
Of honors there –
Such spirit makes her perpetual mention,
That I – grown bold –
Step martial – at my Crucifixion –
As Trumpets – rolled –

Feet, small as mine – have marched in Revolution
Firm to the Drum –
Hands – not so stout – hoisted them – in witness –
When Speech went numb –
Let me not shame their sublime deportments –
Drilled bright –
Beckoning – Etruscan invitation –
Toward Light –

296c. 1861 / 1945

One Year ago – jots what?
God – spell the word! I – can’t –
Was’t Grace? Not that –
Was’t Glory? That – will do –
Spell slower – Glory –

Such Anniversary shall be –
Sometimes – not often – in Eternity –
When farther Parted, than the Common Woe –
Look – feed upon each other’s faces – so –
In doubtful meal, if it be possible
Their Banquet’s true –

I tasted – careless – then –
I did not know the Wine
Came once a World – Did you?
Oh, had you told me so –
This Thirst would blister – easier – now –
You said it hurt you – most –
Mine – was an Acorn’s Breast –
And could not know how fondness grew
In Shaggier Vest –
Perhaps – I couldn’t –
But, had you looked in –
A Giant – eye to eye with you, had been –
No Acorn – then –

So – Twelve months ago –
We breathed –
Then dropped the Air –
Which bore it best?
Was this – the patientest –
Because it was a Child, you know –
And could not value – Air?

If to be “Elder” – mean most pain –
I’m old enough, today, I’m certain – then –
As old as thee – how soon?
One – Birthday more – or Ten?
Let me – choose!
Ah, Sir, None!

297c. 1861 / 1896

It’s like the Light –
A fashionless Delight –
It’s like the Bee –
A dateless – Melody –

It’s like the Woods –
Private – Like the Breeze –
Phraseless – yet it stirs
The proudest Trees –

It’s like the Morning –
Best – when it’s done –
And the Everlasting Clocks –
Chime – Noon!

298c. 1861 / 1932

Alone, I cannot be –
For Hosts – do visit me –
Recordless Company –
Who baffle Key –

They have no Robes, nor Names –
No Almanacs – nor Climes –
But general Homes
Like Gnomes –

Their Coming, may be known
By Couriers within –
Their going – is not –
For they’re never gone –

298JŠ99

Nemohu sama být,
jsem samý návštěvník –
nepopsatelný zjev –
jdou přes zámek.

Nemají jméno, háv,
podnebí, kalendář,
jen obvyklý dům
jak gnóm.

Příchod mi zvěstují
v mém nitru kurýři.
Odchod – ten není,
vždyť neodcházejí.

2991862 / 1891

Your Riches – taught me – Poverty.
Myself – a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre –

You drifted your Dominions –
A Different Peru –
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life’s Estate with you –

Of Mines, I little know – myself –
But just the names, of Gems –
The Colors of the Commonest –
And scarce of Diadems –

So much, that did I meet the Queen –
Her Glory I should know –
But this, must be a different Wealth –
To miss it – beggars so –

I’m sure ’tis India – all Day –
To those who look on You –
Without a stint – without a blame,
Might I – but be the Jew –

I’m sure it is Golconda –
Beyond my power to deem –
To have a smile for Mine – each Day,
How better, than a Gem!

At least, it solaces to know
That there exists – a Gold –
Altho’ I prove it, just in time
Its distance – to behold –

Its far – far Treasure to surmise –
And estimate the Pearl –
That slipped my simple fingers through –
While just a Girl at School.

300c. 1862 / 1914

“Morning” – means “Milking” – to the Farmer –
Dawn – to the Teneriffe –
Dice – to the Maid –
Morning means just Risk – to the Lover –
Just revelation – to the Beloved –

Epicures – date a Breakfast – by it –
Brides – an Apocalypse –
Worlds – a Flood –
Faint‑going Lives – Their Lapse from Sighing –
Faith – The Experiment of Our Lord –