...

Ainda é Fevereiro, mas as papoilas estão na mente

Poppies in July

Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you no harm?

You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.

A mouth just bloodied.
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear read, like the skin of a mouth.

A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!

There are fumes that I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?

If I could bleed, or sleep! -
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!

Or liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stiling.

But colourless. Colourless.

Sylvia Plath, Ariel, (Lisboa, Relógio D'Água, 1996), p.165