رؤى بني مصطفى

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night    —,Sailed off in a wooden shoe Sailed on a river of crystal light

;He tried to spit out the truth ,Dry-mouthed at first

,A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim .And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim ,The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould

.Your Riches — taught me — Poverty Myself — a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast —Till broad as Buenos Ayre 

,There is another sky ,Ever serene and fair ,And there is another sunshine ;Though it be darkness there

The past is such a curious creature To look her in the face A transport may reward us Or a disgrace

The heart asks pleasure – first -And then, excuse from pain And then, those little anodynes ;That deaden suffering

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة إميلي ديكنسون، وهي قصيدة مدروسة وقصيرة، يتعلق الأمر بمدى ضآلة قدرتنا على التحكم في حياتنا اليومية.

If those I loved were lost —The Crier’s voice would tell me  If those I loved were found —The bells of Ghent would ring 

–I like to see it lap the Miles  –And lick the Valleys up  –And stop to feed itself at Tanks  And then – prodigious step

—I cannot live with You  —It would be Life —And Life is over there  Behind the Shelf

How happy is the little Stone ,That rambles in the Road alone And doesn’t care about Careers —And Exigencies never fears

,He ate and drank the precious words ;His spirit grew robust ,He knew no more that he was poor .Nor that his frame was dust

,A Coffin—is a small Domain Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise .In it diminished Plane

—I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to —But You have enough—of those —I could bring You Odors from St. Domingo —Colors—from Vera Cruz

—The Brain—is wider than the Sky  —For—put them side by side The one the other will contain —With ease—and you—beside

,Love is like the wild rose-briar —Friendship like the holly-tree The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms ?But which will bloom most constantly

:Silent is the house: all are laid asleep ,One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze

,Tell me, tell me, smiling child ?What the past is like to thee ‘An Autumn evening soft and mild ’.With a wind that sighs mournfully

No coward soul is mine  No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere  I see Heaven’s glories shine  And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear 

Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile Nor mirth nor music wakes my Halls

,Come, walk with me There’s only thee –To bless my spirit now  We used to love on winter nights

Harriet Tubman didn't take no stuff Wasn't scared of nothing neither Didn't come in this world to be no slave And wasn't going to stay one either

,Dear love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew ;The white snows are falling ,And all through the wood, where I wandered with you ;The loud winds are calling

.They slip on to the bus, hair piled up high ,New styles each month, it seems to me. I look Not wanting to be seen, casting an eye .Above the unread pages of a book

I have sometimes thought how it would have been -If I had had to create the whole thing myself ;My life certainly but also something else ,I mean a world which I could inhabit freely

Window upon the wall, a balcony With a light chair, the air and water so Mingled you could not say which was the sun

I do not understand this child Though we have lived together now In the same house for years. I know Nothing of him, so try to build

When I decide I shall assemble you Or, more precisely, when I decide which thoughts ,Of mine about you fit most easily together Then I can learn what I have loved, what lets

This to be peace, they think beside the river Being adapted well to expectation And their wives’ mutiny at no achievement And yet can sit watching the promises