Friday, June 5, 2009

Dickinson and Niedecker Translated -649 words

Our share of night to bear
Our share of morning,
Our happiness in a vacuum to fill,
Our blank in scorning.

Here is a star and a star,
Some lose their way.
Here a mist, and there is fog,
After that day!

To fight aloud is very brave,
Gallanti but I know
Who charge within the breast,
The cavalry of woe.

Who will win, and nations do not see,
Which is not only observation,
Whose eyes dying, no country
Regards with patriot love.

We trust in plumed procession,
These angels go
Rank after rank, even with the feet
And uniforms of snow

Victory comes late
I keep a low freezing lips
Too deep, St. frost glass doors
You can take it.
In order to sweet taste,
Just a drop!
God was so economical?
The table spread for us, too
If you do not eat tip-toe.
Crumb can keep a small mouth
Cherries separated Robins;
Golden Eagle's breakfast Strangles them.
God has kept his oath Sparrow,
Who is a little love
I know how to starve!

Before you think of spring,
In addition to the assumption
Behold, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the sky
Independent hues,
Little time-worn,
Inspiriting Clothing
The carbon and brown.

With examples of poems,
As for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
Sexuality was associated with delay
To some superior tree
Without any list
Shouts of joy and the
But even Angelina!

Bring me the sunset in a cup
Count this morning's flagons up,
And say how many cloth;
Tell me how far the morning jump
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth blue!

Write me how many notes have
In the new robin's ecstasy
Among astonished branches;
How many trips the tortoise makes,
How many cups of the bee partake --
The debauchee of dews!

Also, who laid the Rainbow's piers,
Also, which leads the docile spheres
At the withers of additional blue?
If fingers string the stalactite,
Who counts wampum at night
To see that nobody is guilty?

Who built this little Alban house
And close the windows down so close
My spirit can not see?
Who'll let me some gala day,
With the tools to fly away
Passing pomposity?

My coat worn,
And Capital Hill
The morning after
the modern.

In this category Eternal
the land of fiction,
see through laughter.

Mr.Van It bought 14 washcloths?
Fourteen washrags,
Ed Van there?
It must go on the church, I guess.

He drinks, you know. The day on which we
Then came into the kitchen stewed,
to mix things, my sister Grace --
Place spices in a bad place.

My husband says that the wind blows from the south,
we go, there is no happiness
Caught that I use multiple burns on it,
and the faces to the east, and the wind in my mouth,
but my husband has been in the south.

Black Hawk leadership: Due
Earth can not be sold,
things to take away, and I'm old.

Young Lincoln postponed general
Papaya flowers,
and to this day, Black Hawk,
Reason a small room.

The laundry is in office
no totem-sculptures between master Niedecken
moreover, every seventh day on which they are washed:
Worship service Sunday,
the fear of the rain,
the eyes of their neighbors;
the hands of the earth to heaven,
and hang or fall in with the white to all of them.

Grampa's got his old age pension,
$ 15 per month,
his own food and space.

But here he comes,
Violin and spitbox ...

Tho't I stop with you a little,
They were all parents.

There's a better shine
on the clock
that what is happening on my hair
and often
I have seen there.

Which bird light
Moving into a tree
Tree, which I
of privacy?

Down in the grass
the issue of the incompetent;
sora eyes. . .
Not calm.

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