16 de abril de 2007

I Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal.

I am not a tree with my root in the soil

Sucking up minerals and motherly love

So that each March I may gleam into leaf,

Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed

Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,

Unknowing I must soon unpetal.

Compared with me, a tree is immortal

And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,

And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars,

The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.

I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.

Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping

I must most perfectly resemble them--Thoughts gone dim.

It is more natural to me, lying down.

Then the sky and I are in open conversation,

And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:

Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.

Sylvia Plath.

Poesia à desgarrada entre dois blogues (muito) amigos.


Anónimo,  17 de abril de 2007 às 10:49  

pronto, pronto... 1 ponto para Plath, 0 pontos para Chutney. até logo.

Anónimo,  17 de abril de 2007 às 15:20  

Estúpida lei da gravidade que nos amarra ao solo e nos impede de voar! Já está na hora de ser desafiada... :)

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