A Song for Sylvia Plath Lyrics


My poor princess of lithium

Unvoluntary, unaware pall

In their merciless churn they're howling

The uterine envy of hysterical crowd

Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children

Cold as snow breath it tamps the womb

No more gypsy ancestress and tarots

A swastika on the breast and a god of blue volts

To catch you by the roots of your hair or your brain

No more a daddy... with a cleft in his foot and buried in rainy day

No one to pick worms... off you like some sticky pearls

"Peel off the napkin! O my enemy. Do I terrify herr enemy?"

So dear bipolar lady, dressed in crape and icicles and rings

Gifts of forgotten birthdays

Passed cooking and showing scar and black-eye pits

For the obstinately adored husband

Remote ruler of an handful of pills

And you tugged childish at his bars

Only to fail again in some key of Calvary

"So we never know how high we are till we are asked to rise

And then if we're true to plan our stature touch the sky

The heroism that we recite would be a normal thing

Did not ourselves the cubit warp for the fear to be a king.

And how many flowers fail or perish without known

That they are beautiful just one day,

How many cast a pod upon the nearest breeze

Unconscious of scarlet it bear to other eyes!"

O you insane spring, knockin' at the gate of my skull

Whirl that exclude out every balance and reason in a gulf

And I'm brimming over of the same rocky, grassy nature of this land

Self damaging animal, inebriated with a crystalline pain

Glidin' down pain, mad eagle!

I have fallen a long way, clouds are flowering

Blue and mystical over the face of stars

The moon is my mother, she's not sweet like Virgin Mary

Her blue garments unloose small bats and howls

It is an hearts and not a pill this holocaust I walkin'

O golden child the world will kill and eat

The fire make it precious, same fire melting tallow heretics

Ousting the Jews and Sunday lamb that crack in

Virginia Woolf is calling

And Auschwitz is calling

Ovens glowed like heavens

Incandescent heavens

Holocaust in the kitchen

My familiar kitchen

Goodbye to the roots of yew-tree

The silent black

Friend, goodbye