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"I FELT A FUNERAL IN MY BRAIN" by

EMILY DICKENSON

 

FRENCH

I felt a burial in my brain, And people in mourning, ahead and behind, Marcher kept, walking, until it seemed that the direction crossed. And when they all were posed, a service like a Battre drum kept, leaf, to I thought my spirit went engourdi. And then I intended them to raise a box, And squeaking through my heart With these same initializations of wire, still. Then space started to sound Because all skies were a bell, And being but an ear, And I and deaden a certain strange, destroyed race, solitary, here.

GERMAN

I believed a funeral in my brain, and it kept back and forth a stepping mourning and stepped until it seemed that direction broke through. And as all they set, went like drum for A service a striking held, striking, to I, which was thought my understanding, deaf. And then I heard it to raise a box and Knarren over my soul with those same loadings of the line again. Then area caught on to ring, since all skies were a bell to bring and its however an ear and a I and any strange running to the silence ruined, however, here.

ARABIC

I funeral in the brain, and the mourners, away, the compatibility and consistency, so it seems this premise was impenetrable. When everyone is seated, keep services such as drum beating, beating, so I thought I was going Khadran. Then I heard from lifting box, and Sarir across those same shoes spiritual lead again. Then came a number of space ship was all sky, but permission was silence some strange race and wrecked here individually.

KOREAN

I felt the funeral which is to my brain, and grief I slept, in before and behind, gratitude I am breaking through and when until, it steps on and to defend position it steps on. And this total place of them gave and at the time of quality, service my mind which likes the drum until I where is thought, it hit to defend and position hitting became paralyzed and it was going. And that time I this box of them listened the wild thing, and the [ppi] [kkek] the distance with starting which is the equality of the sound map, again in the opposite side of my soul. That time space all heavens which are started with fee the fact that it does shipwreck, flag because of the paper, and but it boils the ear, and I what kind of it is lonely from the race which is strange, about they become silent.

ORIGINAL ENGLISH

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, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I 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 I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.





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