Mar Salgado

domingo, janeiro 20:

SYLVIA PLATH, SEMPRE:

First, are you our sort of person?

Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.


( The Applicant, 1965)

 

posted by FNV on 9:53 da tarde #

Comments:

Sempre...
Mad Girl's Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

# posted by  Unknown : 4:31 da tarde

 

E virão mais.;)))

# posted by  FNV : 9:01 da tarde

 

Ok, because you'r kind :)))))))

KINDNESS

Kindness glides about my house. 

Dame Kindness, she is so nice! 

The blue and red jewels of her rings smoke
In the windows, the mirrors 

Are filling with smiles.

What is so real as the cry of a child?
A rabbit's cry may be wilder
But it has no soul. 

Sugar can cure everything, so Kindness says.
Sugar is a necessary fluid,

Its crystals a little poultice. 

O kindness, kindness 

Sweetly picking up pieces! 

My Japanese silks, desperate butterflies, 

May be pinned any minute, anesthetized.

And here you come, with a cup of tea 

Wreathed in steam. 

The blood jet is poetry, 

There is no stopping it. 

You hand me two children, two roses.

# posted by  Unknown : 9:52 da tarde

 

Gracias;))

# posted by  FNV : 12:53 da manhã

 

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