Sylvia Plath 摘录

“诗是血的喷涌，根本无法止住”

——Sylvia Plath

“死去是一种艺术/和其他事情一样/我尤善此道”。“我又做了一次/每十年当中/我要安排此事”。“看，黑暗从爆裂中渗出/我不能容纳这些，我容不了我的生命”。“从灰烬中/我披着红发升起/像呼吸空气般地吞噬男人”，“像猫一样可死九次”。“这女子已臻于完美/她死去的/身体带着成就的微笑”。 她的极度敏感形成了她容易受挫的心理；迷恋内心生活使她易于与现实进行对抗；过分好强造成她疲惫和虚弱；对事物完美的追随促使她对自己过多的抱怨；精神压抑其实是来自心灵的亢奋；对生命的认真推动她最终走入生命的虚无；追求诗歌的深度却在心中布满了痛楚。所有这一切又可以反过来认证。原因和结果在她的心内是同为一体。晕眩与纯净，错觉与清晰，恐惧与喜悦，黑暗与宁静，愤怒与怜悯，亲切与卑微，死亡与新生就是这样交织在她的诗中，也成为《钟形罩》的意象源泉和氛围元素，宛如雨滴淋湿了书中的标点。 “像乌云洒下一面镜子/来映照自己/缓缓/消逝于风的摆布”

“我一头栽了下去，越过以之字形滑雪的人们、学生、专家，穿过年复一年的双重人格、微笑、妥协，回到我自己的过去。”

“天顶上太阳明晃晃地照着，无动于衷。我真想将自己放在上面磨砺，直到自己变成圣人一般，像刀刃一样锋利而完美。”

“女人只能有一种生活，必须清清白白，而男人却可以过双重生活，一种清白，一种不清白，这种想法我没法接受。”

“我觉得这种药一听就知道是男人发明的。瞧这个女人，她处在极度痛苦之中，显然每一分痛苦她都感受得到，不然她不会呻吟成那样。然而，她一回到家，马上就会怀上第二个孩子，因为那种药物使她忘却了所经历的一切痛楚。事实上，自始至终，在她内心的隐秘之处，那条长长的、漆黑的、无门无窗的痛苦隧道正等待开启，好再度将她禁闭。”

“一种夏日的静谧像死亡一般抚慰着一切。”

“我看到日日年年如同一长串白晃晃的箱子向前排列，在箱子与箱子之间横隔着睡眠，仿佛黑色的阴影一般。只是对我来说，那将箱子与箱子分隔开来的长长的阴影突然之间啪的一声绷断了，一个又一个白天在我的面前发出刺眼的白光，就像一条白色的、宽广的、无限荒凉的大道。”

“然后，不知什么东西扑过来，攫住我使劲摇撼，似乎世界末日到了。哦——啊——咦——这个东西尖声嘶叫着凌空而来，空中噼噼啪啪闪着幽蓝的光。伴随每一次电闪，一股巨大的力量便给我一通乱棒，直到我想我的骨头架子要散了，骨髓迸溅，像被撕裂的植物一般。 我不知道我到底做了什么坏事。”

“一想到要受男人支配，我就愤愤不平。”我对诺兰大夫说，“男人在这世界上无忧无虑，而我却要背上个孩子的包袱，孩子就像一根大棒悬在我的脑袋上，叫我不敢妄动。”

“我闻到一股宝宝粟米糊、酸奶、臭得像腌鳕鱼的尿布糅合在一块儿的味儿，既为这些人感到悲哀，又觉得心中充满柔情。对我周围的这些女人来说，生孩子多么轻而易举！为什么我却这么缺乏母性，这么与众不同呢？我为什么不能像渡渡·康威一样，为一个又一个胖乎乎的嗷嗷待哺的婴儿奉献一生呢？ 要是我得没日没夜地侍候婴儿，我会发疯的。”

“一场噩梦。 对于困在钟形罩里的那个人，那个大脑空白、生长停止的人，这世界本身无疑是一场噩梦。 一场噩梦。 我记得一切的一切。”

“或许，遗忘就像一层皑皑白雪，能麻木这些记忆，将其覆盖。 然而它们却是我的一部分。是我的地貌。”

“那天上午，我开始动手了。 我把自己锁在浴室里，将浴缸放满温水，然后取出一片“吉列”牌刀片。 人们曾问一位古老的罗马哲学家还是别的什么人，他希望怎么死法，他说他愿意在温水浴中割开他的血管。我想，这容易，躺在浴缸里，瞧着从我手腕里开出的鲜红的花朵，一朵又一朵，绽放在清澈的水中，直到我没入水中，沉沉睡去，水面荡漾着绚丽夺目的罂粟般的花朵。 但是，正当我要动手时，手腕上的皮肤看起来煞白煞白、柔弱无助，我怎么都下不了手。我想切断的东西似乎并不在那皮肤里，也不在那根在我大拇指下扑扑跳动的纤细的蓝色血管里，而是在其他什么地方，埋得更深、更秘密的什么地方，实在是难以企及。”

“我深深地吸了一口气，倾听心脏一如既往的吹嘘。 我存在，我存在，我存在。”

“沉寂令我情绪低落。这不是万籁俱寂的那种沉寂。是我自己的沉寂。”

1.雾中的羊 （西尔维娅·普拉斯/作，张文武/译） 群山没入茫茫白色。 人们，或星星 悲哀地注视着我，我令他们失望了。 火车留下一串气息。 哦，慢腾腾的 马儿，铁锈般的颜色， 马蹄，忧伤的铃声—— 整个早晨 晨光不断暗下来， 一朵被遗忘的花。 我的骨头一片寂静，远方的 片片原野融化了我的心脏。 仿佛在等着我 穿过它们，去往一处 没有星星、没有父的天堂，一片黑暗的水。

2 疯丫头的情歌 　　我合上眼眸，世界倒地死去； 　　我抬起眼帘，一切重获新生。 　　（我想你只是我脑中幻象。） 　　红光蓝光，星子们舞着华尔兹隐去， 　　马蹄得得，黑暗悍然闯入 　　我合上眼眸，世界倒地死去。 　　梦中你尽施魔力，诱我同眠， 　　歌声叫人迷乱，亲吻叫人癫狂。 　　（我想你只是我脑中幻象。） 　　上帝从高天跌落，地狱烈焰渐熄 　　六翼天使引退，撒旦扈从下场 　　我合上眼眸，世界倒地死去。 　　我曾幻想你会如约归来， 　　但我老了，淡忘了你的姓名。 　　（我想你只是我脑中幻象。） 　　我但愿爱上的是一只雷鸟， 　　至少春回大地，雷鸟也呼啸而返。 　　我合上眼眸，世界倒地死去。 　　（我想你只是我脑中幻象。）

3 Daddy You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time-- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beerof Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You -- Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two-- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

4 Lady Lazarus

I have done it again.One year in every tenI manage it------A sort of walking miracle, my skinBright as a Nazi lampshade,My right footA paperweight,My face a featureless, fineJew linen.Peel off the napkinOmy enemy.DoI terrify?------The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?The sour breathWill vanish in a day.Soon, soon the fleshThe grave cave ate will beAt home on meAnd I a smiling woman.I am only thirty.And like the cat I have nine times to die.This is Number Three.What a trashTo annihilate each decade.What a million filaments.The peanut-crunching crowdShoves in to seeThen unwrap me hand and foot------The big strip tease.Gentlemen, ladiesThese are my handsMy knees.I may be skin and bone,Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.The first time it happened I was ten.It was an accident.The second time I meantTo last it out and not come back at all.I rocked shutAs a seashell.They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.DyingIs an art, like everything else.I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell.I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I've a call.It's easy enough to do it in a cell.It's easy enough to do it and stay put.It's the theatricalCome back in broad dayTo the same place, the same face, the same bruteAmused shout:'A miracle!'That knocks me out.There is a chargeFor the eyeing of my scars, there is a chargeFor the hearing of my heart------It really goes.And there is a charge, a very large chargeFor a word or a touchOr a bit of bloodOr a piece of my hair or my clothes.So, so, Herr Doktor.So, Herr Enemy.I am your opus,I am your valuable,The pure gold babyThat melts to a shriek.I turn and burn.Do not think I underestimate your great concern.Ash, ash---You poke and stir.Flesh, bone, there is nothing there------A cake of soap,A wedding ring,A gold filling.HerrGod, Herr LuciferBewareBeware.Outof the ashI rise with my red hairAnd I eat men like air.