Φως στην άβυσσο

photo by DesPin

Όσο και όπως
ποτέ δε μ’αγάπησε
μάνα καμιά.

Ζητώ απ’εσένα
Έρωτα: Να καλύψεις
αβύσσου κενά.

Αιτούμαι κρυφά!

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SYLVIA PLATH… Είμαι Καθέτως

photo by EvAr

Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal.

I am not a tree with my root in the soil

Sucking up minerals and motherly love

So that each March I may gleam into leaf,

Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed

Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,

Unknowing I must soon unpetal.

Compared with me, a tree is immortal

And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,

And I want the one’s longevity and the other’s daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,

The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors.

I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.

Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping

I must most perfectly resemble them–

Thoughts gone dim.

It is more natural to me, lying down.

Then the sky and I are in open conversation,

And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:

The trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.

Είμαι καθέτως

Αλλά θα προτιμούσα να ’μαι οριζοντίως.

Δεν είμαι δέντρο με τη ρίζα μου στη γη

Να πίνω μέταλλα και μητρική αγάπη

Έτσι που κάθε Μάρτη να βλασταίνω φως,