Three Women

Standardno

How long can I be a wall, keeping the wind off?

How long can I be

Gentling the sun with the shade of my hand,

Intercepting the blue bolts of a cold moon?

The voices of loneliness, the voices of sorrow

Lap at my back ineluctably.

How shall it soften them, this little lullaby?

How long can I be a wall around my green property?

How long can my hands

Be a bandage to his hurt, and my words

Bright birds in the sky, consoling, consoling?

It is a terrible thing

To be so open: it is as if my heart

Put on a face and walked into the world.

Sylvia Plath

Oglasi

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