Saturday, April 4, 2009

Plath: Childless Woman

Sylvia Plath Collected Poems

No. 211
  Childless Woman

The womb
Rattles its pod, the moon
Discharges itself from the tree with nowhere to go.

My landscape is a hand with no lines,
The roads bunched to a knot,
The knot myself,

Myself the rose you achieve---
This body,
This ivory

Ungodly as a child's shriek.
Spiderlike, I spin mirrors,
Loyal to my image,

Uttering nothing but blood---
Taste it, dark red!
And my forest

My funeral,
And this hill and this
Gleaming with the mouths of corpses.
         1 December 1962

普拉斯《诗全编》
第211首

  没孩子的女人

那子宫
摇响卵荚,月亮
将自己从树中释放,无处可去。

我的风景,一只没有掌纹的手,
路都捆成了节,
节是我自己,

我就是你完成的玫瑰——
这身体,
这不敬神的

象牙,像小孩的尖叫。
如蜘蛛,我旋转着镜子,
对自己的形象忠心不二,

张嘴除了吐出鲜血还是鲜血——
尝尝吧,暗红色的!
还有我的森林

我的葬礼,
和这山丘以及这种光
随尸体的嘴巴而闪放。
        1962年12月1日

1 comment:

coupdecoeur said...

Hello
a small mark at the time of my passage on your very beautiful blog!
congratulations!
thanks for making us share your moments
you have a translation of my English space!

cordially from France
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ .·´¨¨))
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´* ~ Chris ~ -:¦:-
http://SweetMelody.bloguez.com