LAdy Lazarus
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Pell off the napkin
O my enemy
Do I terrify?
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
the grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
Poesia tirada do livro Ariel de Sylvia Plath.
http://br.youtube.com/watch?v=cdZrwa0iics&feature=related
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