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  • emily dickinsonin cok güzel bir siiri.

    ı felt a funeral, in my brain,
    and mourners to and fro
    kept treading - treading - till it seemed
    that sense was breaking through -

    and when they all were seated,
    a service, like a drum -
    kept beating - beating - till ı thought
    my mind was going numb -

    and then ı heard them lift a box
    and creak across my soul
    with those same boots of lead, again,
    then space - began to toll,

    as all the heavens were a bell,
    and being, but an ear,
    and ı, and silence, some strange race,
    wrecked, solitary, here -

    and then a plank in reason, broke,
    and ı dropped down, and down -
    and hit a world, at every plunge,
    and finished knowing - then -