Эмили Дикинсон. Избранное. 233 Lamp burns sure

Пылает лампа — по себе —
Льют слуги — масло ей —
Искристости её трудов—
Не нужно фитилей!

Раб масло — позабыл — долить—
Всё золотится — свет, —
Не сознавая про запас, —
Да и раба уж нет.

233

The Lamp burns sure—within—
Tho' Serfs—supply the Oil—
It matters not the busy Wick—
At her phosphoric toil!

The Slave—forgets—to fill—
The Lamp—burns golden—on—
Unconscious that the oil is out—
As that the Slave—is gone.
                Emily Dickinson

"As Dickinson wrote this poem, the United States was embarking on a bloody Civil War with slavery at the heart of the hostilities. Is this poem also making the point that slaves aren't needed, that the golden lamplight of the nation will continue to burn without their forced and unpaid labor?
Perhaps the "Serfs" and "Slave" refer to the body of the poet herself. Her hands and stomach, for example, might be viewed as serfs to her inner poetic flame. One would assume they are necessary to fuel the poet. But no: the creative fire burns even without the oil of food, drink, or or other seeming necessities".
               
                Prowling Bee
               
                Стихи.ру 24 июля 2016 года