Words, Poem von Silvia Plath

von Sylvia Plath:


after whose stroke the wood rings,

and the Echoes!

Echoes, travelling from centre like horses.

The sap wells like tears,

like the water striving

to re-establish its mirror

over the rock.

The drops and turns,

a white skull,

eaten by weedy greens.

Years later I encounter then on the road-

words dry and riderless

the indefatigable hoof-taps

while from the bottom of the pool,

fixed stars govern a life.

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