Dotze poemes d’Emily Dickinson

Translations © by Salvador Pila

Song Cycle by Aaron Copland (1900 - 1990)

View original-language texts alone: Twelve Poems of Emily Dickinson

1. Nature, the gentlest mother
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Nature, the gentlest mother
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest, -
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon, -
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky,

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
1. Natura, la mare més gentil
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Natura, la mare més gentil,
per a cap infant impacient,
el més feble o el més entremaliat,
blanes les seves amonestacions.

En el bosc i en el tossal
l’escolta el viatger,
aturant l’esquirol bellugadís
o l’ocell massa impulsiu.

Que plaent és la seva conversa
en una tarda d’estiu,
la seva mansió, el seu aplec;
i quan el sol s’amaga

la seva veu entre les bancades
incita la tímida pregària
del grill més menut,
de la flor més humil.

Quan tots els infants dormen
ella s’enretira just el temps
que cal per encendre els seus llums;
llavors, abalançant-se des del cel,

amb infinit afecte
i encara més infinita cura,
amb el seu dit d’or als llavis,
demana silenci arreu.

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 24
Word count: 119

Translation © by Salvador Pila
2. There came a wind like a bugle
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
There came a wind like a bugle,
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass

We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost
The doom's electric moccasin
That very instant passed.

On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day,

The bell within the steeple wild,
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come and much can go,
And yet abide the world!

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
2. Vingué un vent com un clarí
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Vingué un vent com un clarí,
fremia a través de l’herba
i una verda fredor damunt la calda
sinistrament va passar.

Vàrem barrar portes i finestres
a l’espectre maragda,
l’elèctric mocassí de la perdició
passava just en aquell instant.

A una estranya munió d’arbres panteixants
i tanques fugitives
i rius que corrien on hi havia cases,
els vivents aquell dia dirigien els esguards.

La campana de la torre, frenètica,
feia escampar volant les notícies.
Quantes coses poden anar i venir
sense que s’acabi el món!

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Line count: 16
Word count: 86

Translation © by Salvador Pila
3. Why do they shut me out of Heaven?
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Why -- do they shut me out of Heaven?
Did I sing -- too loud?
But -- I can sing a little minor,
Timid as a bird.

Wouldn't the angels try me -- 
just -- once -- more --
Just -- see -- if I troubled them --
But don't -- shut the door!

Oh if I -- were the Gentlemen 
in the White Robes
and they -- were the little Hand -- that knocked --
Could -- I -- forbid?

Why do they shut me out of Heaven?
Did I sing too loud?

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
3. Per què m’han tancat les portes del cel?
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Per què m’han tancat les portes del cel?
És que he cantat massa fort?
Però jo puc cantar més fluixet,
tímidament com un ocell.

No voldrien pas els àngels posar-me a prova,
tan sols una vegada més,
per veure si és que els vaig molestar –
però no tanqueu la porta!

Oh, si jo fos el senyor
amb la túnica blanca
i ells la petita mà que pica a la porta,
podria jo negar-los-hi accés?

Per què m’han tancat les portes del cel?
És que he cantat massa fort?

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 14
Word count: 89

Translation © by Salvador Pila
4. The world feels dusty
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
The world feels dusty,
when we stop to die...
We want the dew then
Honors taste dry...

Flags vex a dying face
But the least fan
stirred by a friend's hand
Cools like the rain

Mine be the ministry
when thy thirst comes...
Dews of thyself to fetch 
and holy balms.

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This version was published many times, including in the Atlantic Monthly (Volume 143, 1929), before the more authoritative versions came out with the more characteristic punctuation. There are also a few changes to the words in the last stanza. See below.

by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
4. El món té gust de pols
Language: Catalan (Català) 
El món té gust de pols
quan ens aturem per morir...
llavors desitgem la rosada,
els honors tenen un sabor sec...

Les banderes batzeguen una faç morent
però el més modest ventall,
mogut per una mà amiga,
refresca com la pluja.

Serà la meva comesa
quan et vingui la set...
de portar-te la rosada
i els bàlsams sagrats.

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 12
Word count: 59

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5. Heart, we will forget him
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Heart, we will forget him
You and I, tonight.
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
5. Cor, l’oblidarem
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Cor, l’oblidarem
tu i jo, aquesta nit.
Tu podràs oblidar l’escalf que donava
i jo oblidaré la claror.

Quan ho hagis fet, et prego que m’ho diguis,
que pugui esborrar els meus pensaments;
prest! Mentre tu t’atardes
el podria tornar a recordar.

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 8
Word count: 42

Translation © by Salvador Pila
6. Dear March, come in!
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat -
You must have walked -
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the bird's;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, - I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me -
And all those hills
You left for me to hue,
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Who knocks? that April?
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
And blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
6. Març estimat, entra!
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Març estimat, entra!
Que contenta estic!
T’esperava abans.
Treu-te el barret –
deus haver caminat –
com has perdut l’alè!
Març estimat, com estàs?
I els altres?
La natura, l’has deixat bé?
Oh març, puja tot seguit a dalt amb mi,
t’haig d’explicar tantes coses!

Vaig rebre la teva carta i la dels ocells;
els aurons no sabien
que venies, - t’he de dir
com s’enrojolaren els seus rostres!
Però març, perdona’m –
i tots aquells turons
que em deixares per acolorir,
no hi havia cap porpra adient
tu te l’emportares tota.

Qui pica a la porta? És l’abril?
Tanca bé!
No vull que m’empaiti!
Ha estat lluny tot un any per venir
ara quan estic ocupada.
Però les foteses semblen tan banals
des que ets aquí,
i el blasme és tan estimat com la lloança
i la lloança tan mera com el blasme.

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Line count: 29
Word count: 143

Translation © by Salvador Pila
7. Sleep is supposed to be
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the day.

Morning has not occurred!
That shall aurora be
East of Eternity;

One with the banner gay,
One in the red array, -
That is the break of day.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
7. La son se suposa que és
Language: Catalan (Català) 
La son se suposa que és,
per a les ànimes assenyades,
només tancar els ulls.

La son és l’indret grandiós
en el qual, a cada costat,
hi rau una munió de testimonis!

El matí se suposa que és,
per a la gent d’un cert rang,
el començament del dia.

Però el matí no ha arribat encara!
L’aurora serà aquella
a l’est de l’eternitat;

aquella amb la senyera llampant,
amb vermell ornament, -
aquella és el començament del dia.

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 15
Word count: 77

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8. When they come back
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
When they come back -- if Blossoms do --
I always feel a doubt
If Blossoms can be born again
When once the Art is out --

When they begin, if Robins do,
I always had a fear
I did not tell, it was their last Experiment
Last Year,

When it is May, if May return,
Has nobody a pang
Lest on a Face so beautiful
We might not look again?

If I am there -- One does not know
What Party -- One may be
Tomorrow, but if I am there
I take back all I say --

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
8. Quan elles retornin
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Quan elles retornin – si les flors ho fan –
jo sempre tinc un dubte:
que si les flors podran tornar a néixer
quan hagi mort l’Art –

Quan ells comencen el cant, si ho poden fer 
els pit-roigs, jo sempre he tingut la por,
que mai he dit, de què llur darrer intent
hagués estat l’any passat.

Quan vingui el maig, si el maig retorna,
que ningú s’angoixi,
no fos que un rostre tan bell
poguéssim no tornar a veure.

Si jo sóc allà – mai se sap
amb quina companyia hom pot estar
demà, però si sóc allà,
retiro tot el que he dit –

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 16
Word count: 107

Translation © by Salvador Pila
9. I felt a funeral in my brain
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

 ...

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
9. Vaig sentir un funeral al meu cap
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Vaig sentir un funeral al meu cap,
i els acompanyants del dol, d’una banda a l’altra,
caminaven sense parar fins que em semblà
que estava perdent els sentits.

I quan tots ells segueren,
un ofici com un timbal
batia sense parar fins que vaig pensar
que l’enteniment se m’entumiria.

I llavors vaig sentir com aixecaven una caixa
i em travessaven l’ànima amb els cruixits
d’aquelles mateixes botes de plom.
Aleshores l’espai començà a repicar

com si tot el cel fossin campanes,
i l’existència fos només una orella,
i jo i el silenci, una raça estranya,
enrunada, solitària, aquí.

[ ... ]

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 20
Word count: 130

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10. I've heard an organ talk sometimes
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
I've heard an organ talk sometimes
In a cathedral aisle
And understood no word it said
Yet held my breath the while...

And risen up and gone away,
A more Bernardine girl
And know not what was done to me
In that old hallowed aisle.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
10. De vegades he sentit un orgue parlar
Language: Catalan (Català) 
De vegades he sentit un orgue parlar
a la nau d’una catedral
i no he entès cap paraula del que deia
però en aquells moments he aguantat l’alè...

I després m’he aixecat i he marxat,
sentint-me una noia més devota
i sense saber què m’havia passat
en aquella antiga nau sagrada.

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  • Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Line count: 8
Word count: 51

Translation © by Salvador Pila
11. Going to Heaven!
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Going to Heaven!
I don't know when,
Pray do not ask me how, -
Indeed I'm too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven! -
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the shepherd's arm!

Perhaps you're going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little place for me
Close 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 dress
When we are going home. 


Going to Heaven! I'm glad I don't believe it
For it would stop my breath,
And I'd like to look a little more
At such a curious earth!
I am glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
11. Me’n vaig al cel!
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Me’n vaig al cel!
No sé quan i us prego
de no preguntar-me com, --
car estic massa astorada
per pensar de respondre-us!
Me’n vaig al cel!
Que incert això sona!
I per tant es realitzarà,
tan segur com els ramats tornen de nit al corral
sota el braç del pastor!

Potser vosaltres també hi aneu!
Qui sap?
Si arribeu allà primer,
guardeu-me un petit lloc
a prop dels dos que he perdut!
La “túnica” més petita m’anirà bé
i just un tros de “corona”;
car heu de saber que el vestit no ens importa
quan tornem cap a casa.

Estic contenta de no creure-m’ho,
car això aturaria el meu respir
i voldria poder contemplar una mica més
aquesta terra tan curiosa!
Estic contenta que ells ho creguessin
aquells que mai he trobat
d’ençà la tarda solemne de tardor
en la que els vaig deixar a terra.

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Line count: 27
Word count: 146

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12. The chariot
 (Sung text)
Language: English 
Because I would not stop for Death --
He kindly stopped for me --
The carriage held but just ourselves --
and Immortality.

We slowly drove -- he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, 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 seemed
a swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

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by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
12. La carrossa
Language: Catalan (Català) 
Degut a què jo no podia aturar-me per la mort –
ell s’aturà amablement per a mi –
el carruatge portava tan sols nosaltres dos
i la immortalitat.

Ens movíem lentament – ell no tenia pressa,
i jo havia renunciat
al meu treball i també al meu lleure
per la seva cortesia. –

Passarem davant l’escola, on els infants jugaven
a lluitar en un cercle,
passarem davant els camps de blat esguardants,
passarem davant la posta del sol.

Ens deturarem davant d’una casa que semblava
una protuberància de la terra;
la teulada a penes es veia,
la cornisa res més que un túmul.

Des d’aleshores han passat segles; però cadascun
sembla més curt que el dia
en el que, per primera vegada, vaig pressuposar 
que els caps dels cavalls encaraven l’eternitat.

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Translation of title "The chariot" = "La carrossa"


This text was added to the website: 2016-03-29
Line count: 20
Word count: 131

Translation © by Salvador Pila