Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze —
秋の他にも、詩人は詩を作って讃える
実に単調な日々を
短い冬の今日（こんにち）の様相を
それに靄（もや）の向こうの様子を－
A few incisive Mornings —
A few Ascetic Eves —
Gone — Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod" —
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."
甚（はなは）だ鋭敏な夜明けを－
この上なく禁欲的な夕べを－
去る－ミスター.ブライアントの"Golden Rod"を－
ミスター.トムソンの"sheaves"を
Still, is the bustle in the Brook —
Sealed are the spicy valves —
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves —
静めると、あの谷川のざわめきになる－
封印すると、際どい弁になる－
抗し難い指は、幾人もの小人の眼差しにゆっくりと影響を与える－
Perhaps a squirrel may remain —
My sentiments to share —
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind —
Thy windy will to bear!
おそらく変人は取り残されると言って差し支えない
私の伝えようとする感受性－
認めてほしい私を、ああ詩人を、晴れ渡った魂を－
実を結ぼうとするお前の激しい感情を
・
・
・
Sealed are the spicy valves —
Seal・・封印する、確定する
詩を書く時、言葉（単語）を確定しなければならない。
しかし、それは何時も、実に際どく、一つ一つバルブ（弁）を閉めて行く様なものである。
詩、既に表現したもの・表現した事は、確定から除外したものを常に包含する。
だから、詩は底が深く、面白い。
・
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves —
Mesmeric fingers・・催眠術の指、or抗し難い指
Elves・・小人
眠る白雪姫、眠らなかった小人、詩人と詩は、その小人でさえ眠らせてしまえる。
詩は、人を感動させ、ゆっくりと人に影響を及ぼします。
・
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind —
Emily Dickinsonは、a sunny mind晴れ晴れとした魂を持っていたようです。
非常に聡明で、当時の女性の誰よりも、clearな頭脳を持ち、独自性を貫きます。
生存時、理解されなかった優れた女性の一人でしょう。
詩人は暗い、詩は暗いなんて嘘です。
詩人はそうした自らの既成概念を、詩を読む人もそうした思い込みを払拭しましょう。
もやもやした頭脳では詩を書く事が出来ません。
詩は
a sunny mindのもの。
・
15:29 2012/07/12木曜日
参照
①The Death of the Flowers（Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"）
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread;
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief:
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
William Cullen Bryant
②The Four Seasons : Autumn
James Thomson