1 мин
Слушать(AI)A Better Resurrection
I have no wit,
I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left,
I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
Jesus, quicken me.
Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963) was an American poet, novelist, and short-story writer.
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Daddy
You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white,
Witch Burning
In the marketplace they are piling the dry sticks A thicket of shadows is a poor coat I The wax image of myself, a doll's body
Thalidomide
O half moon—-Half-brain, luminosity—-Negro, masked like a white, Your Amputations crawl and appall—-Spidery, unsafe What
Winter Trees
The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve On their blotter of fog the Seem a botanical drawing Memories growing, ring on ring,