Emily Dickinson
An irgendeinem Sommermorgen
Poems/Gedichte
Ausgewählt und übertragen von Gertrud Liepe
Nachwort von Klaus Lubbers
Reclam
1970, 2022 Philipp Reclam jun. Verlag GmbH, Siemensstraße 32, 71254 Ditzingen
Gesamtherstellung: Philipp Reclam jun. Verlag GmbH, Siemensstraße 32, 71254 Ditzingen
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Coverabbildung: shutterstock.com/holaholga
Made in Germany 2022
RECLAM ist eine eingetragene Marke der Philipp Reclam jun. GmbH & Co. KG, Stuttgart
ISBN 978-3-15-961973-6
ISBN der Buchausgabe 978-3-15-011396-7
www.reclam.de
Ich stehe gern vor dir,
Du Fläche schwarz und rau,
Du schartiges Visier
Vor meines Liebsten Brau’,
– – –
Vorhang am Heiligtume,
Mein Paradiesestor,
Dahinter alles Blume,
Und alles Dorn davor!
Annette von Droste-Hülshoff aus »Die Taxuswand«
Poems
A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer’s morn –
A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
A Breeze – a caper in the trees –
And I’m a Rose!
ca. 1858
Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?
So Sailors say – on yesterday –
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up it’s strife
And gurgled down and down.
So angels say – on yesterday –
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat – o’erspent with gales –
Retrimmed it’s masts – redecked it’s sails –
And shot – exultant on!
ca. 1858
Nobody knows this little Rose –
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it –
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey –
On it’s breast to lie –
Only a Bird will wonder –
Only a Breeze will sigh –
Ah Little Rose – how easy
For such as thee to die!
ca. 1858
Before the ice is in the pools –
Before the skaters go,
Or any cheek at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow –
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!
What we touch the hems of
On a summer’s day –
What is only walking
Just a bridge away –
That which sings so – speaks so –
When there’s no one here –
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?
ca. 1858
I robbed the Woods –
The trusting Woods.
The unsuspecting Trees
Brought out their Burs and mosses
My fantasy to please.
I scanned their trinkets curious –
I grasped – I bore away –
What will the solemn Hemlock –
What will the Oak tree say?
ca. 1858
Could live – did live –
Could die – did die –
Could smile upon the whole
T[h]rough faith in one he met not,
To introduce his soul.
Could go from scene familiar
To an untraversed spot –
Could contemplate the journey
With unpuzzled heart –
Such trust had one among us,
Among us not today –
We who saw the launching
Never sailed the Bay!
1858
If I should die,
And you should live –
And time sh’d gurgle on –
And morn sh’d beam –
And noon should burn –
As it has usual done –
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go –
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie –
That Commerce will continue –
And Trades as briskly fly –
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene –
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
ca. 1858
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 today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory
As he defeated – dying –
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!
ca. 1859
A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon –
A depth – an Azure – a perfume –
Transcending extasy.
And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see –
Then vail my too inspecting face
Lest such a subtle – shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me –
The wizard fingers never rest –
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it’s narrow bed –
Still rears the East her amber Flag –
Guides still the Sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red –
So looking on – the night – the morn
Conclude the wonder gay –
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!
ca. 1859
These are the days when Birds come back –
A very few – a Bird or two –
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies resume
The old – old sophistries of June –
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee –
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear –
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.
Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze –
Permit a child to join.
Thy sacred emblems to partake –
Thy consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
ca. 1859
Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze –
A few incisive Mornings –
A few Ascetic Eves –
Gone – Mr Bryant’s »Golden Rod« –
And Mr Thomson’s »sheaves«.
Still, is the bustle in the Brook –
Sealed are the spicy valves –
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves –
Perhaps a squirrel may remain –
My sentiments to share –
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind –
Thy windy will to bear!
ca. 1859
At last, to be identified!
At last, the lamps upon thy side
The rest of Life to see !
Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!
Past Sunrise!
Ah, What leagues there were
Between our feet, and Day!
ca. 1860
If I should’nt be alive
When the Robins come,
Give the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.
If I could’nt thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I’m trying
With my Granite lip!
ca. 1860
Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums –
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