Emily Dickinson’s poems

Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson♫My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –In Corners – till a DayThe Owner passed – identified –And carried Me away –And now We roam in Sovereign Woods –And now We hunt the Doe –And every time I speak for Him –The Mountains straight reply –And do I smile, such cordial light Upon the Valley glow –It is as a Vesuvian faceHad let its pleasure through –And when at Night – Our good Day done –I guard My Master’s Head –Tis better than the Eider-Duck’s Deep pillow – to have shared –To foe of His –I’m deadly foe –None stir the second time –On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –Or an emphatic Thumb –Though I than He – may longer live He longer must – than I –For I have but the power to kill, Without – the power to die –我的生命——一杆实弹枪——站在角落——直到有一天主人经过——认出——带着我离去——如今我们漫步在至尊的林中——如今我们追猎雌鹿——每次我替他说话——群山便立即回答——当我微笑，炙热的光在山谷闪亮——如同维苏威的脸孔让快乐流淌——夜晚——当白昼过去——我守护主人的头——胜过分享深陷的——鸭绒枕头——对他的敌人——我就是死敌——谁也休想再动一下——只要我用黄眼盯上他——或用有力的拇指杵着他——虽然我比他——也许活得久他的寿命一定——比我长——因为我有能力杀伤，却没有——死去的力量——（蒲隆译）♫The Admiration – and Contempts –of time –Show justest –through an OpenTomb –The Dying – as it were a HeightReorganizes EstimateAnd what We saw notWe distinguish clear –And mostly – see notWhat We saw before –Tis Compound Vision –Light – enabling Light –The Finite – furnishedWith the Infinite –Convex – and Concave Witness –Back – toward Time –And forward –Toward the God of Him –时光的——敬慕——与轻蔑——显示最公正——透过开放的坟墓——垂死的人——好像一个高度把估价重组以前没见过的现在我们明辨——却常常——看不到我们以前的所见——这是复合视域——光——万能之光——有限——用无限装点——凸面——见证凹面——向后——朝着时光——向前——走向他那上帝——（刘晓晖译）♫My life closed twice before its close–It yet remains to seeIf Immortality unveilA third event to meSo huge, so hopeless to conceiveAs these that twice befell.Parting is all we know of heaven,And all we need of hell.我的生命闭合前闭合过两次——却还拭目以待看永生是否为我把第三次经历揭开猜想，庞大而绝望就像那两次的降临。

①I’m Nobody!我是无名之辈－Emily DickinsonI’m nobody! Who are you?我是无名之辈！你是谁？Are you nobody, too?你也是无名之辈吗？Then there’s a pair of us----don’t tell!那么我们就是一对儿了！千万不要透露出去They’d banish us, you know!不然我们都会被他们驱逐，你知道。

How dreary to be somebody!做一个某某，是多么沉闷无聊How public, like a frog众人像是青蛙To tell your name the livelong day整日地把你谈论啊To an admiring bog!对着他们倾慕的泥沼我是无名之辈艾米莉·狄金森我是无名之辈，你是谁？你，也是，无名之辈？这就凑成一双，别声张！你知道，他们会大肆张扬！做个，显要人物，好不无聊！像个青蛙，向仰慕的泥沼——在整个六月，把个人的姓名聒噪——何等招摇！This poem is Dickinson’s most famous and most defense of the kind of spiritual privacy she favored, implying that to be a Nobody is a luxury incomprehensible to a dreary somebody—for they are too busy keeping their names in circulation. But to be somebody is not as fancy as it seems to be.Emily DickinsonAs you probably noticed when you read this poem, none of the themes that I discussed in the Overview of Dickinson applies to this poem. My list was not meant to cover every topic Dickinson wrote on, nor does every poem she wrote fit neatly into a category.Dickinson adopts the persona of a child who is open, naive, and innocent. However, are the questions asked and the final statement made by this poem naive? If they are not, then the poem is ironic because of the discrepancy between the persona's understanding and view and those of Dickinson and the reader. Under the guise of the child's accepting society's values, is Dickinson really rejecting those values?Is Dickinson suggesting that the true somebody is really the "nobody"? The child-speaker welcomes the person who honestly identifies herself and who has a true identity. These qualities make that person "nobody" in society's eyes. To be "somebody" is to have status in society; society, the majority, excludes or rejects those who lack status or are "nobody"--that is, "they'd banish us" for being nobody.In stanza 2, the child-speaker rejects the role of "somebody" ("How dreary"). The frog comparison depicts "somebody" as self-important and constantly self-promoting. She also shows the false values of a society (the "admiring bog") which approves the frog-somebody. Does the word "bog" (it means wet, spongy ground) have positive or negative connotations? What qualities are associated with the sounds a frog makes (croaking)?Is there satire in this poem?Some readers, who are modest and self-effacing or who lack confidence, feel validated by this poem. Why?②To Make a Prairie…To make a prairieIt takes a clover and one bee,One clover and a bee,And revery.Revery alone will do,If bees are few.去造一个草原张祈试译去造一个草原需要一株三叶草和一只蜜蜂，一株三叶草和一只蜜蜂，还有梦。

艾米丽迪金森诗15首(美)艾米莉·狄金森的诗15首艾米莉·狄金森1830-1886，美国诗人，生于马萨诸塞州的阿莫斯特(Amherst)。

据称，她是美国文学史上最伟大的诗人之一。

她珠辉玉丽般的独特诗句，凝聚着深厚的情感和创造性的智慧。

她以此独立于19 世纪美国文学的主流之外。

生活迪金森几乎一生都是在她的出生地生活。

她父亲是热心公众事务的著名律师。

他的三个孩子，埃米莉、儿子奥斯汀(Austin)、和另一个女儿拉维尼娅(Lavinia)，这样就有机会见到很多来访的著名人士。

埃米莉·迪金森前后花了六年就读于阿莫斯特学院，和一年时间读圣尤奇山(Mount Holyoky)神学院，过着平常人的生活，充满友谊，聚会，教堂和家务。

在她不到30岁的时候，她开始退出乡村活动，渐渐开始直到完全停止外出。

她与好多朋友通信的同时，却慢慢再也不见面。

她经常逃避来访者，直到最终她在她父亲的房子里过着隐士般的生活。

作为一个成熟女人，她的情感既强烈又敏感，与他人的接触让她感到精疲力尽。

迪金森在退出俗世以前就开始写诗。

在1858年至1862年期间，她的创作达到高峰。

虽然评论家托马斯-温特沃斯-希金森(Thomas Wentworth Higginson)从未真正认识到迪金森的天才，还是给了她好多的鼓励，另外还有海伦-亨特-杰克逊(Helen Hunt Jackson)始终认为迪金森是个伟大的诗人，也给予她很多的鼓励，但是迪金森生平只发表了七首诗歌。

她的生存方式，虽然有限，却让她非常满意，也必不可少。

1886年她死之后，她妹妹拉维尼娅-迪金森在她的写字台里发现了一千多首诗歌。

在一段过长时间里，由于埃米莉-迪金森在爱情的失败后放弃了世界，被当作是浪漫式的人物，而不是严肃的艺术家。

这个传奇式的人物，被以推测为依据，而受到扭曲和捏造，以致至今仍然让为她的传记作家烦忧。

作品迪金森的爱情诗里，有强烈表达的眷恋，已经证明不可能知道谁她的感情对象，也不知道她的诗歌想象成分有多少。

1）Becau‎s e I could‎not stop for Death‎Becau‎s e I could‎not stop for Death‎—He kindl‎y stopp‎e d for me—The Carri‎a ge held but just Ourse‎l ves—And Immor‎t alit‎y.We slowl‎y drove‎—He knew no haste‎And I had put awayMy labor‎and my leisu‎r e too,For His Civil‎i ty—We passe‎d the Schoo‎l, where‎Child‎r en strov‎e At Reces‎s—in the RingWe passe‎d the Field‎s of Gazin‎g Grain‎—We passe‎d the Setti‎n g Sun—Or rathe‎r—He passe‎d Us—The Dews drew quive‎r ing and chill‎—For only Gossa‎m er, my Gown—My Tippe‎t—only Tulle‎—We pause‎d befor‎e a House‎that seeme‎dA Swell‎i ng of the Groun‎d—The Roof was scarc‎e ly visib‎l e—The Corni‎c e—in the Groun‎d—Since‎then—'tis Centu‎r ies—and yetFeels‎short‎e r than the DayI first‎surmi‎s ed the Horse‎s' Heads‎Were towar‎d Etern‎i ty—2) I felt a funer‎a l in my brain‎I felt a funer‎a l in my brain‎,And mourn‎e rs to and fro,Kept tread‎i ng, tread‎i ng, till it seeme‎dThat sense‎was break‎i ng throu‎g h.And when they all were seate‎d,A servi‎c e like a drumKept beati‎n g, beati‎n g, till I thoug‎h tMy mind was going‎numb.And then I heard‎them lift a boxAnd creak‎acros‎s my soulWith those‎same boots‎of lead again‎,Then space‎began‎to tollAs all the heave‎n s were a bell,And being‎but an ear,And I and silen‎c e some stran‎g e race,Wreck‎e d solit‎a ry here.And then a plank‎in reaso‎n broke‎,And I dropp‎e d down and downAnd hit a world‎at every‎plung‎e,And finis‎h ed knowi‎n g, then.7) There‎'s been a death‎in the oppos‎i te house‎There‎'s been a death‎in the oppos‎i te house‎As latel‎y as today‎.I know it by the numb lookSuch house‎s have alway‎.The neigh‎b ors rustl‎e in and out,The docto‎r drive‎s away.A windo‎w opens‎like a pod,Abrup‎t, mecha‎n ical‎l y;Someb‎o dy fling‎s a mattr‎e ss out, -The child‎r en hurry‎by;They wonde‎r if It died on that, -I used to when a boy.The minis‎t er goes stiff‎l y inAs if the house‎were his,And he owned‎all the mourn‎e rs now,And littl‎e boys besid‎e s;And then the milli‎n er, and the manOf the appal‎l ing trade‎,To take the measu‎r e of the house‎.There‎'ll be that dark parad‎eOf tasse‎l s and of coach‎e s soon;It's easy as a sign, - The intui‎t ion of the news In just a count‎r y town.。

译Emily Dickinson七首nude258有这样一道斜光，冬日午后——压迫着，有如教堂旋律的重——神圣的伤，它给了我们——我们找不到疤痕，但内在的差异，其意义，是——没人能够讲授的——任何人——这是绝望之印——一份堂皇的烦忧从空中传给我们——它来时，山水谛听——阴影——屏息——它走时，就像死神脸上的迷离——419我们渐渐习惯了黑暗者——光被收了起来——当邻居拿着灯为她的告别作证——片刻之后——我们犹疑地为夜的新而举步——然后——让我们的视力适应黑暗者——来到路上——直立着——还有更宽广的——黑暗——脑子里的那些夜晚——没有月亮泄漏征兆——或星星——出现——在里面——最勇敢者——一点点摸索着——有时前额一头撞在树上——但当他们学会了看——不是黑暗产生了变化——就是视力的某些成分调整自己适应了午夜——生命就几乎畅行无阻449我死于美——却依然匮乏于是在坟墓里调校着邻室躺着，一个死于真的人——他轻声问“为何我落败了”？“因为美”，我回答——“而我——因为真——它们本是一体。

我们原是兄弟”，他说——因此，如同亲人，相遇在夜晚——我们隔着墙壁交谈——直到苔藓长上我们的嘴唇——并且覆盖——我们的名字——458像注视废物的眼睛——怀疑着一切而空白——和持续的荒芜——被夜晚变得多变——仅仅是零的无限——远至它视力可及——那么看看我所轻视的脸庞——看看它自身——看我——我没有给它帮助——因为那起因属于我——这致密的不幸这样绝望——如同预言——既无法——被赦免——也无法成为女王缺失了另一个——为此——我们枯朽——尽管我们掌权——592谁在意死者，在鸡鸣之时——谁在意死者，当白日来临？已经迟了，你的日出让他们面容懊恼——而紫色的秽语——在清晨如空白般倾泻在他们身上像倾泻在一面泥瓦匠昨日砌好的墙上并且同样冰冷——谁在意死者，当夏季到来？夏至也没有日光能消耗他们门口的积雪——并且知道某只鸟的鸣叫——能让他们凹陷的耳朵发颤众鸟中的——这一只——人最喜欢的从此倍受珍爱——谁在意死者，当冬季到来？他们易被冻结——像南方的——如同一月的夜晚——六月的中午——她的微风来自无花果——或者肉桂——在石块里沉淀将这石块给人——散发着香气——用以取暖——761从空白到空白——了无线索之路我拖着机械的脚步——停止——毁灭——或前进——都漫不经心——若我抵达终点它结束于被泄漏的不确定之外——我闭上眼——并摸索着它轻了一些——装作失明——1153经过怎样耐心的出神我抵达了麻木的极乐为了呼吸失去你的空白请为我验证这个和这个——籍着那荒凉的欢欣我几乎赢得了这个你那死亡的特权为我将这个缩略——返回PresentimentPresentiment -- is that long shadow -- on the Lawn -- Indicative that Suns go down --The Notice to the startled GrassThat Darkness -- is about to pass --I'm NobodyI'm nobody, who are you?Are you nobody too?Then there's a pair of us.Don't tell -- they'd banish us, you know.How dreary to be somebody,How public -- like a frog --To tell your name the livelong JuneTo an admiring bog.I Never Saw a MoorI never saw a Moor --I never saw the Sea --Yet know I how the Heather looksANd what a Billow be.I never spoke with GodNor visited in Heaven --Yet certain am I of the spot.As if the Checks were given.[作者简介]Emily Dickinson(1830-1886)．在美国文学史上属于超验主义作家,深受爱默生的影响．她的诗段小精悍，许多诗只基于一个意象或象征．她自1862年起过着足不出户的隐居生活，然而她的诗却让感到强大的想象力和创造力．她的诗在句法结构和标点符号的使用上都独具一格，更加强了她的诗的魅力．。

Emily Dickinson’s poetry1Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put awayMy labor, and my leisure too,For his civility.We passed the school where children played,Their lessons scarcely done;We passed the fields of gazing grain,We passed the setting sun.We paused before a house that seemedA swelling of the ground;The roof was scarcely visible.The cornice but a mound.Since then 'tis centuries but eachFeels shorter than the dayI first surmised the horses' headsWere toward eternity.2Bustle In A House~The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth.The sweeping up the heartAnd putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity.3"Hope" is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soulAnd sings the tune without the wordsAnd never stops at all,And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the stormThat could abash the little birdThat kept so many warm.I've heard it in the chillest landAnd on the strangest sea,Yet never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.4"Faith" is a fine inventionFor gentlemen who see,But Microscopes are prudentIn an emergency!5’T is so much joy! ’T is so much joy!If I should fail, what poverty!And yet, as poor as IHave ventured all upon a throw;Have gained! Yes! Hesitated soThis side the victory!Life is but life, and death but death!Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!And if, indeed, I fail,At least to know the worst is sweet.Defeat means nothing but defeat,No drearier can prevail!And if I gain,—oh, gun at sea,Oh, bells that in the steeples be,At first repeat it slow!For heaven is a different thingConjectured, and waked sudden in,And might o’erwhelm me so!6It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down.It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all,The figures I have seenSet orderly for burialReminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted to a frameAnd could not breathe without a key,And 'twas like midnight, some,When everything that ticked has stoppedAnd space stares all around,Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,Repeal the beating ground;But most like chaos, stopless, cool,Without a chance, or spar,Or even a report of landTo justify despair.7Success is counted sweetestBy those who ne’er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need.Not one of all the purple hostWho took the flag to-dayCan tell the definition,So clear, of victory,As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of triumphBreak, agonized and clear8IF I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain;If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robinUnto his nest again,I shall not live in vain.9Much madness is divinest senseTo a discerning eye;Much sense the starkest madness.’T i s the majorityIn this, as all, prevails.Assent, and you are sane;Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,And handled with a chain.10A wounded deer leaps highest,I've heard the hunter tell;T'is but the ecstasy of death,And then the brake is still.The smitten rock that gushes,The trampled steel that springs:A cheek is always redderJust where the hectic stings!Mirth is the mail of anguish,In which it caution arm,Lest anybody spy the bloodAnd Youre hurt exclaim!11A PRECIOUS, mould eringpleasure ’t isTo meet an antique book,In just the dress his century wore;A privilege, I think,His venerable hand to take,And warming in our own,A passage back, or two, to makeo times when he was young.His quaint opinions to inspect,His knowledge to unfoldOn what concerns our mutual mind,The literature of old;What interested scholars most,What competitions ranWhen Plato was a certainty,And Sophocles a man;When Sappho was a living girl,And Beatrice woreThe gown that Dante deified.Facts, centuries before,He traverses familiar,As one should come to townAnd tell you all your dreams were true:He lived where dreams were born.His presence is enchantment,You beg him not to go;Old volumes shake their vellum headsAnd tantalize, just so.12I felt a funeral in my brain,And mourners, to and fro,Kept treading, treading, till it seemedThat sense was breaking through.And when they all were seated,A service like a drumKept beating, beating, till I thoughtMy mind was going numb.And then I heard them lift a box,And creak across my soulWith those same boots of lead, again.Then space began to tollAs all the heavens were a bell,And Being but an ear,And I and silence some strange race,Wrecked, solitary, here.- Emily Dickinson13There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry.This traverse may the poorest takeWithout oppress of toll;How frugal is the chariotThat bears a human soul!14XVITO fight aloud is very brave,But gallanter, I know,Who charge within the bosom,The cavalry of woe.Who win, and nations do not see,Who fall, and none observe,Whose dying eyes no countryRegards with patriot love.We trust, in plumed procession,For such the angels go,Rank after rank, with even feetAnd uniforms of snow.15I taste a liquor never brewed,From tankards scooped in pearl;Not all the vats upon the RhineYield such an alcohol!Inebriate of air am I,And debauchee of dew,Reeling, through endless summer days,From inns of molten blue.When landlords turn the drunken beeOut of the foxglove's door,When butterflies renounce their drams,I shall but drink the more!Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,And saints to windows run,To see the little tipplerLeaning against the sun!16Who never lost, are unpreparedA Coronet to find!Who never thirstedFlagons, and Cooling Tamarind!Who never climbed the weary league—Can such a foot exploreThe purple territoriesOn Pizarro's shore?How many Legions overcome—The Emperor will say?How many Colors takenOn Revolution Day?How many Bullets bearest?Hast Thou the Royal scar?Angels! Write "Promoted"On this Soldier's brow!17Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?Then crouch within the door --Red -- is the Fire's common tint --But when the vivid OreHas vanquished Flame's conditions,It quivers from the ForgeWithout a color, but the lightOf unanointed Blaze.Least Village has its BlacksmithWhose Anvil's even ringStands symbol for the finer ForgeThat soundless tugs -- within --Refining these impatient OresWith Hammer, and with BlazeUntil the Designated LightRepudiate the Forge –18I can wade Grief—Whole Pools of it—I'm used to that—But the least push of JoyBreaks up my feet—And I tip—drunken—Let no Pebble—smile—'Twas the New Liquor—That was all!Power is only Pain—Stranded, thro' Discipline,Till Weights—will hang—Give Balm—to Giants—And they'll wilt, like Men—Give Himmaleh—They'll Carry—Him!19For each ecstatic instantWe must an anguish payIn keen and quivering rationTo the ecstasy.For each beloved hourSharp pittances of years—Bitter contested farthings—And Coffers heaped with Tears!20The only news I knowIs bulletins all dayFrom immortality:The only shows I seeTomorrow and today.Perchance eternity.The only one I meetIs God, the only streetExistence; this traversed.If other news there beOr admirabler show,I’ll tell it you.21Wild nights! Wild nights!Were I with thee,Wild nights should beOur luxury!Futile the windsTo a heart in port,Done with the compass,Done with the chart.Rowing in Eden!Ah! the sea!Might I but moorTo-night in thee!22My life closed twice before its close;It yet remains to seeIf Immortality unveilA third event to me,So huge, so hopeless to conceive,As these that twice befell.Parting is all we know of heaven,And all we need of hell23Empty my Heart, of Thee --Its single Artery --Begin, and leave Thee out --Simply Extinction's Date --Much Billow hath the Sea --One Baltic -- They --Subtract Thyself, in play,And not enough of meIs left -- to put away --"Myself" meanth Thee --Erase the Root -- no Tree --Thee -- then -- no me --The Heavens stripped --Eternity's vast pocket, picked --24I know that He exists.Somewhere -- in Silence --He has hid his rare lifeFrom our gross eyes.'Tis an instant's play.'Tis a fond Ambush --Just to make BlissEarn her own surprise!But -- should the playProve piercing earnest --Should the glee -- glaze --In Death's -- stiff -- stare --Would not the funLook too expensive!Would not the jest --Have crawled too far!25Behind Me -- dips Eternity --Before Me -- Immortality --Myself -- the Term between --Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,Dissolving into Dawn away,Before the West begin --'Tis Kingdoms -- afterward -- they say --In perfect -- pauseless Monarchy --Whose Prince -- is Son of None --Himself -- His Dateless Dynasty --Himself -- Himself diversify --In Duplicate divine --'Tis Miracle before Me -- then --'Tis Miracle behind -- between --A Crescent in the Sea --With Midnight to the North of Her --And Midnight to the South of Her --And Maelstrom -- in the Sky --26Let Us play Yesterday --I -- the Girl at school --You -- and Eternity -- theUntold Tale --Easing my famineAt my Lexicon --Logarithm -- had I -- for Drink --'Twas a dry Wine --Somewhat different -- must be --Dreams tint the Sleep --Cunning Reds of MorningMake the Blind -- leap --Still at the Egg-life --Chafing the Shell --When you troubled the Ellipse --And the Bird fell --Manacles be dim -- they say --To the new Free --Liberty -- Commoner --Never could -- to me --'Twas my last gratitudeWhen I slept -- at night --'Twas the first MiracleLet in -- with Light --Can the Lark resume the Shell --Easier -- for the Sky --Wouldn't Bonds hurt moreThan Yesterday?Wouldn't Dungeons sorer frateOn the Man -- free --Just long enough to taste --Then -- doomed new --God of the ManacleAs of the Free --Take not my LibertyAway from Me --27I died for beauty, but was scarceAdjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lainIn 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 a night,We talked between the rooms.Until the moss had reached our lips,And covered up our names.28I SHALL know why, when time is over,And I have ceased to wonder why;Christ will explain each separate anguishIn the fair schoolroom of the sky.He will tell me what Peter promised,And I, for wonder at his woe,I shall forget the drop of anguishThat scalds me now, that scalds me now.29I shall keep singing!I shall keep singing!Birds will pass meOn their way to Yellower Climes --Each -- with a Robin's expectation --I -- with my Redbreast --And my Rhymes --Late -- when I take my place in summer --But -- I shall bring a fuller tune --Vespers -- are sweeter than Matins -- Signor --Morning -- only the seed of Noon --30LET down the bars, O Death!The tired flocks come inWhose bleating ceases to repeat,Whose wandering is done.Thine is the stillest night,Thine the securest fold;Too near thou art for seeking thee,Too tender to be told.31GOING to heaven!I don’t know when,Pray do not ask me how,—Indeed, I ’m too astonishedTo think of answering you!Going to heaven!—How dim it sounds!And yet it will be doneAs sure as flocks go home at nightUnto the shepherd’s arm!Perhaps you ’re going too!Who knows?If you should get there first,Save just a little place for meClose to the two I lost!The smallest “robe” will fit me,And just a bit of “crown”;For you know we do not mind our dressWhen we are going home.I ’m glad I don’t believe it,For it would stop my breath,And I ’d like to look a little moreAt such a curious earth!I am glad they did believe itWhom I have never foundSince the mighty autumn afternoonI left them in the ground.32I READ my sentence steadily,Reviewed it with my eyes,To see that I made no mistakeIn its extremest clause,—The date, and manner of the shame;And then the pious formThat “God have mercy” on the soulThe jury voted him.I made my soul familiarWith her extremity,That at the last it should not beA novel agony,But she and Death, acquainted,Meet tranquilly as friends,Salute and pass without a hintAnd there the matter ends.33THEY dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the JuneA wind with fingers goes.They perished in the seamless grass,No eye could find the place;But God on his repealless listCan summon every face.。

Emily Dickinson艾米莉·狄金森(1830 - 1886)1.The usual beginning : her life1) Born to religious, well-to-do New England family•Well-behaved, well-educated, obedient•Expected to become a graceful woman, marry well, and settle into a life of church service2) Heartbreak :•Heartbreak At 24, travels with her father to Washington D.C. Escaping her love of an older lawyer, who was married, and would die of tuberculosis that same year•On the journey, falls in love with Charles Wadsworth, a married pastor of a church in Philadelphia In 1862, Wadsworth leaves for San Francisco, and Emily falls into despair3) The Nun of Amherst : 阿默斯特的女尼•Emily withdraws from social life – except for immediate family gatherings•Dresses all in white – like the wedding gown she would never wear •Communicates mostly through notes4) A Published Poet :•During her period of recluse, Emily send a few poems to be published.•Her poetry was never widely admired during her lifetime•and she assumed her audience would only be her family and few close friends. •Dickinson asked that upon her death, all of her poems be destroyed.5) After her death :•She wrote altogether 1775 poems, of which only seven appeared in print in her lifetime. •These were eventually published and Dickinson has become one of the most widely known of the American poets.2. Themes in her poetry1). The largest poetry concerns death and immortality.For Dickinson, death leads to immortality.•E. g: ―Because I could not Stop for Death‖因为我不能为死神止步Because I could Not Stop For Death因为我不能为死神止步•Beause I could not stop for Death—因为我不能为死神止步•He kindly stopped for me—他却慈祥地为我驻足.•The Carriage held but just Ourselves—那辆马车只能容下我们两个•And Immortality.还有不朽.•We slowly drove— He knew no haste,我们徐徐而行—他不慌不忙. •And I had put away•My labor and my leisure too我也把我的劳与闲统统丢掉一边，•For His Civility —为了他的礼让—•We passed the School where Children strove 我们路过学校,孩子们你推我搡，•At Recess —in the Ring —在休息时间，在圆形广场•We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—我们走过在田间凝眸的麦田—. •We passed the Setting Sun—我们路过夕阳-•Or rather— He passed Us—或毋宁说，他走过我们身旁•The Dews drew quivering and chill—寒露降，身子冻得打颤•For only Gossamer, my Gown—因为我只披着薄纱长袍—•my Tippet —only Tulle—我的披肩如丝网•We paused before a House that seemed 我们停步在一所房子前•A swelling of the Ground—那是隆起的土地一片—•The Roof was scarcely visible—屋顶几乎看不见—•The Cornice —in the Ground—屋檐—在地里—•Since then — `tis Centuries— and yet离那时—已是几个世纪—然而•Feels shorter than the Day感觉却比一天还短•I first surmised the Horses' Heads•我开始猜想着马车•Were toward Eternity—•正驶向永恒—该诗的核心意象是通向永恒的生命旅程.Journey of life：•the School--childhood•the Field --adult/maturity•the Setting Sun - old age•the grave - end of life’s journey-death--EternityDetailed analysis of the poem•The first line hints that death is not the final stopping place or terminus of existence.•i had...too:figuratively I put behind me the labour and toil of worldly existence. Literally, as a courteous passenger she puts aside her work, possibly her knitting ("labour") and gives all her attention to the coach driver (Death).•where...ring: they pass children at playtime ("recess") actively engaged in playing a game (symbolic of the world, and/or of meaningless worldly striving).•fileds of gazing grain: cornfields,perhaps suggestive of harvest, or the cycle of the seasons, the natural world she is leaving behind. ("Gazing" is nicely alliterative but difficult to explain to expain-may mean simply something gazed at through the carriage window).•The dews: in the English culture, drew is traditionally associated with transience and also, because of a dew-drop's pearl like shape, with the soul.•My tippet only tulle:my fur was only soft fine silk (I wore little to protect me from the cold). •We...ground: a grave or tomb. ("paused"implies that burial in a grave signfied no more than a temporary restinplace before the soul attends to heaven).•Since then 'tis centuries:time is meaningless in terms of eternity,and therefore it seems no time at all since she first suspected("surmised")that the horse drawing Death's carriage were heading for Eternity. •"Surmised"is a beautifully apt word in this context because it tactfully suggeste something less than a certitude, but someting more than guess or conjecture-the sound of the word with its long drawn out second syllable counts for a good deal here(possibly about Cortez the explorer first viewing the continent of South America:"...and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise..."). •Other poems dealing with death:•My life closed twice before its close在我生命结束之前已经结束过两次•I heard a fly buzz—when I died我死时听到了苍蝇的嗡嗡声She began to conceive of the process of dying.2). She regards nature as both kind and cruel•Extol the magnificence of sunrise in ―I’ll tell you how sun rise‖我将告诉你太阳如何升起,•In the meantime, reveal the cold indifference of nature.•In ―Apparently with no surprise‖显然地并无伴随惊讶, Frost kills a happy flower without being punished while both the sun and God look on.3). On the ethical level she emphasizes free-will and human responsibility.•In ―To fight aloud‖•The individual’s highest duty is to resist anything that will do harm to man’s self-respect and spiritual heritage.4). Like Emerson, she holds that beauty, truth and goodness are ultimately one.•In ―I died for beauty‖(我为美而死), discusses beauty and truth, concludes that the two are one.I Died for Beauty— But was scarce•I died for Beauty — but was scarce我为美而死—但还不怎么•Adjusted in the Tomb适应坟墓里的生活，•When One who died for Truth , was lain这时一位为真理而死的人被安放在•In an adjoining Room —隔壁墓室里—•He questioned softly"Why I failed?―他柔声问：―我为什么而亡？‖•"For Beauty ",I replied —―为了美‖，我回答说—•"And I — for Truth — Themself are One —―我—为了真理—美和真是一样的—•We Bretheren, are", He said —我们两是兄弟‖，他说•And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night —就这样，像亲人在夜里相遇。