Plath, Sylvia: The Munich Mannequins
The Munich Mannequins (Angol)
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The absolute sacrifice.
Me and you.
These mannequins lean tonight
Naked and bald in their turs,
Intolerable, without mind.
Nobody’s about. In the hotels
Down shoes for a polish of carbon
O the domesticity of these windows,
The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stoiz.
Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.
A müncheni próbababák (Magyar)
A tökély iszonyú, gyereke sem lehet.