Emily Dickinson

I 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
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here
إيميلي ديكنسون _ جنازة في عقلي


"أَنا بُهْتَانُ كُلَّ بوَارِقِ الشّعر ."