A Solidão que Ninguém sonda ―
E o tamanho imagina
Enquanto põe o fio a prumo
Para a Cova medir ―
A Solidão que o maior medo
É de ver a si própria ―
E ante si própria destruir-se
Numa mirada só ―
Não o Horror de nos vigiarem ―
Mas no Escuro manter-nos ―
A consciência interceptada ―
E na Prisão o Ser ―
Sinto que a Solidão ― é isto ―
O Criador da alma
As Cavernas e os Corredores
Clarear ― ou lacrar ―
The Loneliness One dare not sound ―
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size ―
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see ―
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny ―
The Horror not to be surveyed ―
But skirted in the Dark ―
With Consciousness suspended ―
And Being under Lock ―
I fear me this ― is Loneliness ―
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate ― or seal ―
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size ―
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see ―
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny ―
The Horror not to be surveyed ―
But skirted in the Dark ―
With Consciousness suspended ―
And Being under Lock ―
I fear me this ― is Loneliness ―
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate ― or seal ―
DICKINSON, Emily. Alguns poemas. Trad. José Lira. São Paulo: Iluminuras, 2008, p.158-159.
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