Читать книгу An irgendeinem Sommermorgen. Poems/Gedichte - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 60

If I may have it, when it’s dead,

I’ll be contented – so –

If just as soon as Breath is out

It shall belong to me –

Until they lock it in the Grave,

’Tis Bliss I cannot weigh –

For tho’ they lock Thee in the Grave,

Myself – can own the key –

Think of it Lover! I and Thee

Permitted – face to face to be –

After a Life – a Death – We’ll say –

For Death was That –

And This – is Thee –

I’ll tell Thee All – how Bald it grew –

How Midnight felt, at first – to me –

How all the Clocks stopped in the World –

And Sunshine pinched me – ’Twas so cold –

Then how the Grief got sleepy – some –

As if my Soul were deaf and dumb –

Just making signs – across – to Thee –

That this way – thou could’st notice me –

I’ll tell you how I tried to keep

A smile, to show you, when this Deep

All Waded – We look back for Play,

At those Old Times – in Calvary.

Forgive me, if the Grave come slow –

For Coveting to look at Thee –

Forgive me, if to stroke thy frost

Outvisions Paradise!

ca. 1862