Ur "Wuthering Heights" (september 1961)
There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heat away.
If I pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
The horizons ring me like faggots,
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color.
But they only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as I step forward.
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color.
But they only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as I step forward.
There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heat away.
If I pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.
-- Sylvia Plath
*) BBCs "A Poet's Guide to Britain" fortsätter genom att påminna om att Plath också var landskapspoet.
2 kommentarer:
Jag har en ganska bra kvot på mitt torrentkonto, och "A Poet's Guide to Britain" är ju tillgängligt. Men jag får nog börja med del 1, den är fri att ladda ner.
Ja, gör det. Det är den verkligen värd: närläsning av den aktuella dikten, visuell tolkning och litterär, biografisk och historisk bakgrund erbjuds. Jag har bara sett del ett och två själv och får nog skynda mig att se de övriga avsnitten innan de läggs till arkiven.
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