Emily Dickinson’s poetry attracted me with the distance it shows towards the world, and with the courage in the use of words for her poetic imagery. Eternity and immortality are not banned, death is not feared. At the same time, the author does not build a shallow air of grandeur: Ms. Dickinson was a renowned recluse, throughout her life.
As Mabel Loomis Todd wrote, She was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist in pretence.
Theories on an illness happen to be supported with pieces such as I Felt a Funeral in My Brain. Internalization of experience yet pervades Emily Dickinson’s writing, as a potent poetic device.
(The Bustle in the House)
Po domu to krzątanie
W poranek pośmiertny
Najsolenniejszym z przedsięwzięć
na ziemi jest, -
W sercu umiatanie
Miłość odłożyć w jeden gest
Nie będziemy potrzebować jej
Aż nadejdzie wieczność.
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,-
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Her freedom of thought has been repeatedly misinterpreted for disregard in matters grammatical. Thomas Wentworth Higginson bowed to the establishment, saying, After all, when a thought takes one’s breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence.
I think linguistics is specialization enough. Grammars (should, at least) belong with intellect and we cannot rid of them to have poetry, or the other way round. Plainly, licentia poetica cannot be subdued, therefore, let us not impose grammatical canons on poetry. We can appreciate Thought Unbound and breathe deep, with language to have poetry as well as grammar.
I do not see anything ungrammatical about Emily Dickinson’s poetry; a slip does not denote absence of grammar, for everyone. I also do not take the verse for a personal or witness account. I think it has beautiful poetic devices and it is them to make poetry true . For Time and Eternity, and despite Emily Dickinson father's judging profession, I do not consider police or other files even likely sources of the observation.
A human being might witness death, that yet not probably often, living a solitary life. The witnessing will be irrelevant to language skill, unless traumatic and therefore detrimental: burial grounds do not tell how to hold a pen. A human being also might read a book and verbally express own thought, which, being itself a best use of written matter, can challenge another's thought more than a photographic report. And my attitude to critics cannot change: where is your (own!) better stuff?
I wanted to translate Emily Dickinson’s poetry long ago; translation is an inestimable exploration into human semantics. I translate her poetry to Polish.