Poesia di Emily Dickinson

Pubblicata il 26 febbraio 2006 alle 20:22

I got so I could hear 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,
Thò 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.