torsdag den 17. juli 2008

Faldt over Sylvia Plath's Ariel i en boghandel herovre, genlaeste Sheep in Fog. Det er stadig et af de bedste digte, jeg har laest.

Sheep in Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

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