333

The Grass so little has to do –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –

And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –

And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Amulets of Pine –

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –

Emily Dickinson , 333 – The Grass so little has to do (c. 1862)

***

L’erba ha poco da fare -
Sfera d’umile verde
Per allevare farfalle
E trastullare api.

Muoversi tutto il giorno
A melodie di brezza,
Tenere in grembo il sole
Ed inchinarsi a tutto.

Infilare rugiada
La notte come perle,
E farsi così bella
Da offuscare duchesse.

Quando muore, svanire
In odori divini
Come dormienti spezie
E amuleti di pino.

Ed abitando nei granai sovrani
I suoi giorni trascorrere nel sogno.
L’erba ha poco da fare
Ed io vorrei esser fieno!