Sylvia Plath (Сильвия Плат)

Lament

The sting of bees took away my father
who walked in a swarming shroud of wings
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.

Lightning licked in a yellow lather
but missed the mark with snaking fangs:
the sting of bees took away my father.

Trouncing the sea like a ragin bather,
he rode the flood in a pride of prongs
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.

A scowl of sun struck down my mother,
tolling her grave with golden gongs,
but the sting of bees took away my father.

He counted the guns of god a bother,
laughed at the ambush of angels' tongues,
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.

O ransack the four winds and find another
man who can mangle the grin of kings:
the sting of bees took away my father
who scorned the tick of the falling weather.

1. Black Rook in Rainy Weather
2. The Ghost's Leavetaking
3. In Plaster
4. Letter in November
5. Goatsucker

Bliss Carman (Блисс Кармен) Lament ("When you hear the white-throat pealing")

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