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She died—this was the way she died.
And when her breath was done
Took up her simple wardrobe
And started for the sun.
Her little figure at the gate
The Angels must have spied,
Since I could never find her
Upon the mortal side.
Emily dickinson is a laconic lady....all her poems are short and sweet.....but with a high meaning....its one of them.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Emily's poetry speaks as if she were simply telling a story to a group of people, in person...as opposed to thru the written word....Authentic...personal....EMILY!