by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
Translation © by Ferdinando Albeggiani

The world feels dusty
Language: English 
Available translation(s): CAT CHI FRE GER ITA
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.

About the headline (FAQ)

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.


Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Set in a modified version by .

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El món té gust de pols", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • CHI Chinese (中文) (Yen-Chiang Che) , "這世界感到灰黯", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Le monde se sent poussiéreux", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 51

Il mondo ha sapore di polvere
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the English 
Il mondo ha sapore di polvere,
quando ci fermiamo a morire...
Imploriamo, allora, rugiada,
gli onori hanno un arido gusto...

Per un volto che muore un tormento
le bandiere, ma un modesto ventaglio
da mano amica agitato
come la pioggia rinfresca

Sia mio il compito
quando verrà la tua arsura...
Raccogliere per te la rugiada
e i balsami sacri.

About the headline (FAQ)

Authorship

  • Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2010 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (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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Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2010-09-06
Line count: 12
Word count: 59