Clogged only with Music, like the Wheels of Birds Afternoon and the West and the gorgeous nothings which compose the sunset keep their high Appoint ment
The Gorgeous Nothings
Song Cycle by Ingrid Stölzel (b. 1971)
Publisher: Composers Edition (external link)1. Clogged Only With Music
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
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Note: the poem was written on three triangles of an envelope. On one appears: “Clogged/only with/Music, like/the Wheels of/Birds.” On another, written at an oblique angle to the first, appear these words: “Afternoon and/the West and/the gorgeous/nothings/which/compose/the/sunset/keep.” and the final triangle was torn from the envelope and pinned to the hinged sections and reads: “their high/Appoint/ment.”
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]2. In This Short Life
In this short Life That only (merely) lasts an hour How much -- how little -- is Within our power
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Nur eine Stund", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "In questa vita breve", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
3. Paradise Is No Journey
Paradise is no Journey because it is within — but for that very cause though — it is the most arduous of Journeys — because as the servant conscientiously says at the Door we are out — always — invariably —
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
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Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]4. The Little Sentences
The little sentences I begun and never finished — the little wells I dug and never filled —
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
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Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]5. It Is Very Still
It is very still in the world now — Thronged only with Music, like the Decks of Birds — and the Seasons take their hushed places like figures in a Dream —
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
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Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]