Τρίτη, 18 Νοεμβρίου 2014

Barren Woman



Empty, I echo to the least footfall, 
Museum without statues, grand with pillars, porticoes, rotundas. 
In my courtyard a fountain leaps and sinks back into itself, 
Nun-hearted and blind to the world.
Marble lilies Exhale their pallor like scent.

I imagine myself with a great public, 
Mother of a white Nike and several bald-eyed Apollos. 
Insread, the dead injure me attentions, and nothing can happen.
Blank-faced and mum as a nurse.

Barren Woman - Sylvia Plath

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