Daddy
Автор книги Sylvia Plath
Время прослушивания 00:54,
Дата публикации
Средний уровень
Дом, семья, друзья
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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 the 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.
