janeiro 13, 2016

Plath's - Soliloquy of the Solipsist

I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet; 
When my eyes shut 
These dreaming houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine 
Over gables the moon's celestial onion 
Hangs high. 

Make houses shrink 
And trees diminish 
By going far; my look's leash 
Dangles the puppet-people 
Who, unaware how they dwindle, 
Laugh, kiss, get drunk, 
Nor guess that if I choose to blink 
They die. 

When in good humor, 
Give grass its green 
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun 
With gold; 
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott color and forbid any flower 
To be. 

Know you appear
Vivid at my side, 
Denying you sprang out of my head, 
Claiming you feel 
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real, 
Though it's quite clear 
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear, 
From me.  

Sylvia Plath in 1956

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