Emily Dickinson V

Poema 1100

A Noite que a levou
Era uma Noite Comum
Tirando a Morte — isso mudou
O Mundo à Nossa volta

Visíveis as mais ínfimas
Coisas antes ocultas
Pela luz sobre as nossas Mentes
Como direi — grifadas.

Numa roda viva entre
O Seu último Quarto
E os Daqueles que estarão vivos
Amanhã, o Remorso

Por Outros existirem
E Ela ter de partir
Uma Inveja quase infinita
Ela em nós despertou —

A agonia aguardámos —
Foi um piscar de olhos —
Oclusos não dissemos nada —
Logo veio a notícia.

O que disse, olvidou —
E, leve como um Junco
À flor do Lago, sem dar luta —
À morte se entregou —

Alisado o Cabelo — 

O Ar lhe compusemos —
Então terrível ócio foi
A fé recalibrar — 

(1866)

*

The last Night that She lived
It was a Common Night
Except the Dying — this to Us
Made Nature different

We noticed smallest things —
Things overlooked before
By this great light upon our Minds
Italicized — as 'twere.

As We went out and in
Between Her final Room
And Rooms where Those to be alive
Tomorrow were, a Blame

That Others could exist
While She must finish quite
A Jealousy for Her arose
So nearly Infinite —

We waited while She passed —
It was a narrow time —
Too jostled were Our Souls to Speak —
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot —
Then lightly as a Reed
Bent to the Water, struggled scarce —
Consented, and was dead —

And We — We placed the Hair —
And drew the Head erect —
And then an awful leisure was
Belief to regulate —