Aventure intérieure

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Emily Dickinson, identité

Adventure most unto itself
The soul condemned to be
Attended by a single  Hound
It’s own identity –

Emily Dickinson

Asile

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Emily Dickinson

These Strangers, in a foreign World,
Protection asked of me –
Befriend them, lest yourself in Heaven
Be found a refugee

Emily Dickinson

Cervelle

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Aristote, âme, cerveau, Emily Dickinson

The Brain is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The Brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The Brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.

Emily Dickinson

*

« L’âme est d’une certaine manière toute chose. »

Aristote, De Anima, 431b20,

Manque sans produit de substitution

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Emily Dickinson, manque

To fill a Gap
Insert the Thing that caused it –
Block it up
With Other – and ’twill yawn the more –
You cannot solder an Abyss
With Air

Emily Dickinson

Talisman inconnu

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Emily Dickinson

I hide myself within my flower
That wearing on your breast
You – unsuspecting – wear me too
And angels know the rest!

Emily Dickinson

Astre perdu

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deuil, Emily Dickinson

Each that we lose takes part of us ;
A crescent still abides,
Which like the moon, some turbid night,
Is summoned by the tides

Emily Dickinson

Surprise éventée

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Emily Dickinson, surprise

The Riddle that we guess

We speedily despise –

Not anything is stale so long

As Yesterday’s Surprise.

Emily Dickinson

Premier partout

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Emily Dickinson

Let my first knowing be of thee
With morning’s warming Light –
And my first Fearing, lest Unknowns
Engulph thee in the night –

Emily Dickinson

Y a-t-il une vie avant la mort ?

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bonheur, Emily Dickinson

Who has not found the Heaven – below –
Will fail of it above –
For Angels rent the House next our’s
Wherever we remove –

Emily Dickinson

Droit d’entrée

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Emily Dickinson, souffrance

Unto a broken heart
No other one may go
Without the high prerogative
Itself hath suffered too

Emily Dickinson