邊緣 (Sylvia Plath)

這個女人已臻於完美。
她死去的
身體帶著成就的微笑，
希臘命運女神的幻像
流動於她寬外袍的渦卷裏，
　　
她赤裸的
雙腳似乎在說：
我們已走了老遠，該停下來了。
每一個死去的孩子盤卷著，一條白色的毒蛇，
在每一個小小的
　　
如今已空了的奶罐子。
她已將
他們卷回自己的體內像玫瑰
的花瓣關閉當花園
凝結而芳香自
　　
夜華甜美、深沉的喉間流出。
月亮沒有什麽值得哀傷，
自她屍骨的頭巾凝視。
她習於這累事情。
她的黑衣拖曳且沙沙作響。

The woman is perfected
Her dead

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare

Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little

Pitcher of milk, now empty
She has folded

Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden

Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.