Success Is Counted Sweetest

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 to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.

Emily Dickinson

The Soul Selects Her Own Society

The soul selects her own society
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.

I've known her from an ample nation
Choose one;
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

Emily Dickinson

I Died For Beauty

I wrote an earlier post of this poem, the Spanish version, from my Spanish book of poems of Emily. Now I have found it in this book of "Inmortal Poems of the English Language" and I wanted to share its original version.

I Died For Beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, -the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met at night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

Emily Dickinson.

I Never Saw a Moor

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoked with God,
Not visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

Emily Dickinson

Presentiment

Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
Indicative that suns go down;
The notice to the startled grass
That darkness is about to pass.

Emily Dickinson

Con finezas tan nimias

Con finezas tan nimias
como libros o flores
se plantan semillas de sonrisas
que van a florecer entre las sombras.

Emily Dickinson del poemario: "Morí por la belleza".

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And this is the original English version of the poem:

By Chivalries as tiny,
A Blossom, or a Book,
The seeds of smiles are planted --
Which blossom in the dark.

La esperanza

Esta es la versión en Español del poema de Dickinson que publiqué ayer en Inglés. El original me pareció precioso hasta que leí este... Hay un placer supremo en la lengua española que no sabría explicar. Espero les guste.


Es la esperanza lo que lleva plumas
y se posa en el alma,
cantando una tonada sin palabras
que nunca tiene fin.

La voz más melodiosa en la tormenta,
muy violento ha de ser el temporal
capaz de desnortar al pajarillo
que a tantos dio calor.

Se le oye en la tierra más  glacial
y en el mar más lejano,
aunque jamás en la necesidad
ni una miga de pan me haya pedido.

Emily Dickinson

Hope

“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.

Emily Dickinson

Morí por la belleza

Hace poco me hice con este libro de poemas de Emily Dickinson: "Morí por la belleza", aquí les dejo con uno de mis favoritos. Ella por lo general no nombraba sus poemas, en solitario y aislada del mundo garabateaba sus apuntes y versos en pedazos de papel que guardaba en cajones, los que luego de su muerte fueron encontrados, publicados y considerados verdaderas joyas de la poesía estadounidense. Asi que sin más aquí está.

Morir por ti fuera muy poca cosa,
pudo hacerlo cualquiera de los griegos.
Vivir es más difícil,
y eso es lo que te ofrezco.

Morir no es casi nada, algo pasado,
pero vivir incluye
el morir muchas veces
sin tener el alivio de estar muerto.

Emily Dickinson

La verdad ha de deslumbrar gradualmente o todo hombre quedará ciego.