Sylvia Plath (Сильвия Плат)

The Hanging Man

By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.

The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid :
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.

A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.

1. The Manor Garden
2. Metamorphoses of the Moon
3. The Other
4. Lyonnesse
5. Leaving Early

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