Poema de Sylvia Plath
OVEJAS EN LA NIEBLA
Las colinas se internan en lo blanco.
Personas o estrellas
me miran tristemente, los estoy defraudando.
El tren deja un trazo de aliento.
Oh lento
caballo color de herrumbre,
cascos, campanas dolorosas…
Toda la mañana
la mañana ha estado oscureciéndose
una flor cortada.
Mis huesos abrazan la quietud, los lejanos
campos funden mi corazón.
Amenazan
con llevarme a un cielo
sin estrellas y sin padre, un agua oscura.
Sheep
In Fog
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
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