The Couriers
The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.
Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.
A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.
Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling
All to itself on the top of each
Of nine black Alps.
A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one ----
Love, love, my season.
It is not mine. Do not accept it.
Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.
A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.
Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling
All to itself on the top of each
Of nine black Alps.
A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one ----
Love, love, my season.
-Sylvia Plath
Från Mind the Book-Camillas Etsy-shop acertainjenesaisquoi
Men åh, vilken rolig överraskning som väntade när jag som vanligt klickade på 'Bokmoster'. Love, love! : )
SvaraRaderaAh, oui, bien sûr, Madame! :)
Radera(Excusez-moi. Mademoiselle!)
Raderahaha, båda går bra : )
SvaraRadera