La fuerza de Sylvia Plath.

Si hay una poesía que me fascina por su fuerza y su transmisión de los sentimientos, es la poesía de la americana Sylvia Plath. Su poema Fever 103 º es un claro ejemplo de lo que significa escribir. Una auténtica válvula de escape. Una representación de lo que el ser humano, a veces siente. Un “cabreo” bien expresado, de una elegancia suprema y con una personalidad realmente carismática.

Aquí dejo este poema, pero en su versión original, para que no pierda ni un ápice de su misteriosa y poderosa fuerza.

Fever 103º

Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple
Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean
The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell
Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright
One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel.
Such yellow sullen smokes
Make their own element. They will not rise,
But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
The weak
Hothouse baby in its crib,
The ghastly orchid
Hanging its hanging garden in the air,
Devilish leopard!
Radiation turned it white
And killed it in an hour.
Greasing the bodies of adulterers
Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
The sin. The sin.
Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss.
Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.
I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ----
My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.
Does not my heat astound you. And my light.
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.
I think I am going up,
I think I may rise ----
The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I
Am a pure acetylene
Attended by roses,
By kisses, by cherubim,
By whatever these pink things mean.
Not you, nor him.
Not him, nor him
(My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats) ----

To paradise.


One response to “La fuerza de Sylvia Plath.

  1. Darthz mayo 9, 2008 / 1:55 pm

    The tongues of hell…

    Es genial ese verso, como te dije. Y me recordaste que debo continuar los artículos de poetas suicidas.


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