Ted Hughes’s Birthday Letters are addressed, with just two exceptions, to Sylvia Plath, the American poet to whom he was married. They were written over a period of more than twenty-five years, the first a few years after her suicide in 1963, and represent Ted Hughes’s only account of his relationship with Plath and of the psychological drama that led both to the writing of her...
Ted Hughes’s Birthday Letters are addressed, with just two exceptions, to Sylvia Plath, the American poet to whom he was married. They were written over a period of more than twenty-five years, the first a few years after her suicide in 1963, and represent Ted Hughes’s only account of his relationship with Plath and of the psychological drama that led both to the writing of her greatest poems and to her death. The book became an instant bestseller on its publication in 1998 and won the Forward Prize for Poetry in the same year.
原文摘录
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Sam
It was all of a piece to you
That your horse, the white calm stallion, Sam,
Decided he'd had enough
And Started home at a gallop. I can live
Your incredulity, your certainty
That this was it. You lost your stirrups. He galloped
Straight down the white line of the Barton Road.
You lost your reins, you lost your seat--
It was grab his neck and adore him
Or free-fall. You slewed under his neck,
An upside-down jockey with nothing
Between you and the cataract of macadam,
That horribly hard, swift river,
But the propeller terrors of his front legs
And the clangour of the iron shoes, so far beneath you.
Luck was already there. Did you have a helmet?
How did you cling on? Baby monkey
Using your arms and legs for clinging steel.
What saved you? Maybe your poems
Saved themse... (查看原文)
The Tender Place
Your temples, where the hair crowded in,
Were the tender place. Once to check
I dropped a file across the electrodes
Of a twelve-volt battery --- it exploded
Like a grenade. Somebody wired you up. 5
Somebody pushed the lever. They crashed
The thunderbolt into your skull.
In their bleached coats, with blenched faces,
They hoverd again
To see how you were, in your straps. 10
Whether your teeth were still whole.
The hand on the calibrated lever
Again feeling nothing
Except feeling nothing to pushed to feel
Some squirm of sensation. Terror 15
Was the cloud of you
Waiting for these lightnings. I saw
An oak limb sheared at a bang.
You your Daddy's leg. How many se... (查看原文)
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1 有用 YourHammerGirl 2020-03-20 20:29:09
好惨啊。但是代表世界，才不会去原谅他。
0 有用 哀伤贡多拉 2025-03-08 13:27:14 北京
与Plath自己的作品形成丰富的互文，前几首最好，第一首Fulbright Scholars就把我击倒在书桌上流出了眼泪（It was the first fresh peach I had ever tasted），最喜欢Caryatids和The Ventriloquist
0 有用 东篱 2024-06-09 23:38:40 北京
把这俩人的drama代入禁闭岛的设定也很合适。hughes竟然没疯
0 有用 特粉😳 2019-11-11 16:37:13
值得细细读，出色的自白诗，但部分显得虚伪，部分显得琐碎，其中短诗最佳。
0 有用 土猴TD 2012-05-31 16:12:20
每天读一首，总是被感动到又忍不住拿出来反复读。只是有个小疑问，TH不是每年写一首诗给SP吗？按道理说应该只有35首。为什么这本书里的诗远远多于35首？....读多了似乎又没那么感动。SP更像是梦魇