西尔维娅·普拉斯｜美杜莎
▎格列佛
云朵在你身体上方飘移
高远，高远而凛冽
还有一点瘪，仿佛它们
是在看不见的玻璃上浮动。
不像天鹅，
没有倒影；
不像你，
不连接着琴弦。
一切都凉，一切都蓝。不像你——
你，仰躺在那儿，
瞪着天空。
蜘蛛人逮住了你，
盘绕捻搓着纤细的枷锁，
他们的贿赂——
如此之多的丝绸。
他们如此恨你。
他们在你手指的山谷中交谈，他们是尺蠖。
他们要你睡在他们的柜橱里，
这根脚趾，那根脚趾，圣人遗物。
走开！
走到七里格外，就如在克里韦利画作中
飞旋的距离，遥不可触。
让这只眼睛成为鹰，
让他嘴唇的阴影，成为深渊。
▎Gulliver
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Over your body the clouds go
High, high and icily
And a little flat, as if they
Floated on a glass that was invisible.
Unlike swans,
Having no reflections;
Unlike you,
With no strings attached.
All cool, all blue. Unlike you——
You, there on your back,
Eyes to the sky.
The spider-men have caught you,
Winding and twining their petty fetters,
Their bribes——
So many silks.
How they hate you.
They converse in the valley of your fingers, they are inchworms.
They would have you sleep in their cabinets,
This toe and that toe, a relic.
Step off!
Step off seven leagues, like those distances
That revolve in Crivelli, untouchable.
Let this eye be an eagle,
The shadow of this lip, an abyss.
▎抵达彼方
有多远呢？
现在还有多远？
轮子的
硕大的猩猩内壁转动，令我惊骇——
克虏伯的
恐怖的头脑，黑色口鼻
转动着，声音
轰走了缺席！像加农炮。
我必须穿越俄罗斯，不是这场战争就是那场。
我拖着我的身体
安静地穿过车厢之吸管。
现在，到了贿赂的时刻。
轮子吃什么，这些轮子
如神祇般固定在圆弧上，
它们意志力的银皮带——
势不可挡。还有它们的骄傲！
这些神祇只知道目的地。
我是这狭缝里的一个字母——
我向一个名字飞翔，两只眼睛。
那儿可会有火，可会有面包？
现在，那儿这般泥泞。
它是个火车站，护士们
在水龙头之水下走，它的面纱，修女院里的面纱，
触碰她们的伤者，
血液仍泵动这些男人，
大腿、手臂堆积在
无止境尖叫的帐篷外——
一座傀儡医院。
男人们，这些男人还剩下什么？
他们被这些活塞，这血向前泵动
进入下一个英里，
下一个时辰——
断裂箭镞的王朝！
有多远？
我的脚沾上了泥，
又稠又红又滑。那是亚当之肋，
我从中升起的土，我深陷痛苦。
我不能毁掉自身，火车喷发着蒸汽。
喷发着，呼吸着，它的牙齿
时刻准备滚动，如魔鬼之牙。
末端会有一分钟
一分钟，一颗露珠。
有多远？
它是那么小
我要抵达的地方，这些路障为什么在这里——
这女人的尸骸，
烧焦的裙子，死亡面具
被宗教人物哀悼，被头戴花环的孩子哀悼。
现在，是爆炸——
雷声和枪炮。
战火隔开我们。
就没有一个寂静的处所
辗转反侧在半空，
触摸不到，不可触摸？
火车拖曳自身，它在尖叫——
一头动物
为终点而疯，
血斑，
火焰终端的面孔。
我会埋葬伤者如埋葬蛹，
我会点数并埋葬死者。
让他们的灵魂在一颗露珠中扭动，
我的足迹散发芳香。
车厢滚滚而过，它们是摇篮。
而我，迈出这皮肤
这老绷带、困倦、旧面孔的皮肤
迈向你，从忘川的漆黑车厢中，
纯洁如婴孩。
▎Getting There
How far is it?
How far is it now?
The gigantic gorilla interior
Of the wheels move, they appall me——
The terrible brains
Of Krupp, black muzzles
Revolving, the sound
Punching out Absence! Like cannon.
It is Russia I have to get across, it is some was or other.
I am dragging my body
Quietly through the straw of the boxcars.
Now is the time for bribery.
What do wheels eat, these wheels
Fixed to their arcs like gods,
The silver leash of the will——
Inexorable. And their pride!
All the gods know destinations.
I am a letter in this slot!
I fly to a name, two eyes.
Will there be fire, will there be bread?
Here there is such mud.
It is a trainstop, the nurses
Undergoing the faucet water, its veils, veils in a nunnery,
Touching their wounded,
The men the blood still pumps forward,
Legs, arms piled outside
The tent of unending cries——
A hospital of dolls.
And the men, what is left of the men
Pumped ahead by these pistons, this blood
Into the next mile,
The next hour——
Dynasty of broken arrows!
How far is it?
There is mud on my feet,
Thick, red and slipping. It is Adam's side,
This earth I rise from, and I in agony.
I cannot undo myself, and the train is steaming.
Steaming and breathing, its teeth
Ready to roll, like a devil's.
There is a minute at the end of it
A minute, a dewdrop.
How far is it?
It is so small
The place I am getting to, why are there these obstacles——
The body of this woman,
Charred skirts and deathmask
Mourned by religious figures, by garlanded children.
And now detonations——
Thunder and guns.
The fire's between us.
Is there no place
Turning and turning in the middle air,
Untouchable and untouchable.
The train is dragging itself, it is screaming——
An animal
Insane for the destination,
The bloodspot,
The face at the end of the flare.
I shall bury the wounded like pupas,
I shall count and bury the dead.
Let their souls writhe in like dew,
Incense in my track.
The carriages rock, they are cradles.
And I, stepping from this skin
Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces
Step up to you from the black car of Lethe,
Pure as a baby.
▎美杜莎
从那块石塞地礁上，
眼珠顺着白色枯枝滚动，
耳朵拢住海洋的语无伦次，
你容纳你落魄的脑袋——神祇之球，
悲悯的镜片，
你的傀儡们
在我龙骨的阴影中搅和着狂野的细胞，
推推搡搡有如心脏，
正中央是赤红的斑点，
乘着浪尖，去往最近的出发港，
拖曳着她们的耶稣式长发。
我疑心，我是否真的逃脱了？
我的思想朝你蜿蜒，
覆满藤壶的老肚脐，大西洋电缆，
将自己保存在，似乎是，奇迹修复的形态中。
无论何时，你总在那里，
在我的电线那头战战兢兢地呼吸，
水波涌起
至我的测水杆，璀璨而感恩，
触碰着，吮吸着。
我没电话你。
我压根就没电话你。
但是，但是
你冒着蒸汽从海面驶向我
肉嘟嘟，红彤彤，一只胎盘
令踢踏的恋人们瘫痪。
眼镜蛇之光
从吊钟海棠的血铃铛里
挤出呼吸。我无法吸气，
我已经死了，身无分文，
曝光过度，像一束X射线。
你以为你是谁？
一片圣餐饼？脂肪满溢的玛丽？
我才不会咬你的身子，
我容身的瓶子，
魑魅魍魉的梵蒂冈。
我对热盐烦得要死。
你的愿望，绿如阉人
朝我的罪过吐信子。
滚开，滚开，鳗鱼般的触手！
我俩之间什么事也没有。
▎Medusa
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head——God-ball,
Lens of mercies,
Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of
departure,
Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous
repair.
In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water upleaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and *******.
I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta
Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from the blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,
Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,
Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!
There is nothing between us.
▎面纱
翡翠——
侧面之石，
绿色亚当
苦痛的那一面，我
微笑，交叉双腿，
谜一般，
变更着我的清晰度。
那么宝贵！
太阳如何磨光这肩膀！
假使
月亮，我的
永不气馁的表姐妹
升起，带着她癌样的灰白，
拖曳着树木——
小小的毛茸茸的息肉，
小小的网，
我的可见性藏起。
我闪烁如一面镜子。
新郎到达这个结晶面，
镜之王！
他是引导着他自己
在这些丝网之中
这些窸窸窣窣的小配件。
我呼吸，嘴上的
面纱颤动它的帷幔
我的眼之
面纱
是彩虹的串联。
我是他的。
即使在他的
缺席中，我
仍旋转着，在我的
不可能事物之鞘中，
无价而安静
在这些长尾小鹦鹉与金刚鹦鹉间。
噢，闲谈者
睫毛的随从！
我将松开
一片羽毛，如同孔雀。
嘴唇的随从！
我将松开
一个音节
粉碎
空气的水晶吊灯
它整日舞动
它的晶体，
一百万个无知者。
随从！
随从！
在他的下一步
我将松开
我将松开——
从那小小的、佩戴珠宝的
他守护如一颗心脏的娃娃身上——
松开那头母狮，
浴缸里的尖叫，
布满孔穴的斗篷。
▎Purdah
Jade——
Stone of the side,
The antagonized
Side of green Adam, I
Smile, cross-legged,
Enigmatical,
Shifting my clarities.
So valuable!
How the sun polishes this shoulder!
And should
The moon, my
Indefatigable cousin
Rise, with her cancerous pallors,
Dragging trees——
Little bushy polyps,
Little nets,
My visibilities hide.
I gleam like a mirror.
At this facet the bridegroom arrives
Lord of the mirrors!
It is himself he guides
In among these silk
Screens, these rustling appurtenances.
I breathe, and the mouth
Veil stirs its curtain
My eye
Veil is
A concatenation of rainbows.
I am his.
Even in his
Absence, I
Revolve in my
Sheath of impossibles,
Priceless and quiet
Among these parrakeets, macaws!
O chatterers
Attendants of the eyelash!
I shall unloose
One feather, like the peacock.
Attendants of the lip!
I shall unloose
One note
Shattering
The chandelier
Of air that all day flies
Its crystals
A million ignorants.
Attendants!
Attendants!
And at his next step
I shall unloose
I shall unloose——
From the small jeweled
Doll he guards like a heart——
The lioness,
The shriek in the bath,
The cloak of holes.
▎月亮和紫杉
这是心灵之光，冷冷的，像行星。
心灵之树群是黑色的。光是蓝色。
草儿将它们的悲伤卸载至我的脚背，仿佛我是上帝，
刺痛我的脚踝，呢喃着它们的谦卑。
冒着蒸汽的，精纯的雾栖居此地
与我的房子之间隔着一排墓石。
我只是看不见，到底可以去哪里。
月亮不是一扇门。它自身就是一张脸，
白如指节，焦躁异常。
它身后拖曳着大海像一桩幽暗的罪；它安静
带着全然绝望的O形口。我住在这里。
每周日两次，铃声惊动天空——
八条伟大的舌头确认着基督复活。
最后，它们清醒地当当敲出自己的名字。
紫杉指向天空。它有哥特式身形。
眼睛跟随它上升就会找到月亮。
月亮是我的母亲。她不像玛丽那么和蔼。
她蓝色的衣衫松开，放出小蝙蝠和小猫头鹰。
我多希望能相信温柔——
假人的脸，在烛光下显得柔和，
特为在我身上垂下，它温驯的眼睛。
我已经坠落了好远。云朵在星辰表面
绽放着蓝色的神秘的花朵。
在教堂内，圣人们都将是蓝色，
飘浮在他们纤细的脚上，在冰冷的条凳上方，
他们的手和脸因圣洁而僵硬。
月亮看不见这一切。她秃顶又狂野。
而紫杉的信息是黑色——漆黑与寂静。
▎The Moon And The Yew Tree
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky——
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly **** out their names.
The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness——
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness——blackness and silence
▎生日礼物
这是什么，在这面纱后，它难看吗，它美丽？
它闪烁微光，它有胸吗，有边缘吗？
我敢肯定，它独一无二，我肯定它就是我想要的。
当我静静地做饭，我感到它在看着，感到它思考着
“这就是我要为她现身的那人？
这就是被选中的那人，这带着黑眼圈和伤疤的？
测量着面粉，切掉多余部分，
遵守规则，规则，规则。
这就是天使报喜的对象？
我的上帝，开什么玩笑！”
但它闪着微光，它不停止，我认为它想要我。
我不介意，假如它是骨头，或是一颗珍珠纽扣。
无论如何，今年我对礼物本就没有太多指望。
毕竟，我还活着，这已是一场意外。
那一次，我本乐意用任何方式杀死自己。
现在，这些面纱，微光灼烁如窗帘，
一月的窗户，那纤细至透明的丝缎
雪白如婴儿的被褥，闪耀着死亡气息。噢象牙！
这一定是一段獠牙，一根幽灵柱。
你难道不明白，我不介意那是什么。
你难道不能把它给我？
别害臊——我不介意它很小。
别吝啬，我做好了接受巨大的准备。
让我们坐在它身上，一人一边，来赞赏这光泽，
这釉彩，它如镜的多样性。
让我们在它之上享用最后的晚餐，如医院的盘子。
我知道你为什么不肯把它给我，
你害怕了
怕这世界会蒸腾作一声尖啸，带着你的头，
有浮雕的、黄铜的、古董盾牌，
你曾孙辈眼中的一宗奇迹。
别害怕，不会这样的。
我只会带上它，轻轻走到一边。
你甚至不会听到我打开它，没有纸声劈啪，
没有落下的缎带，最后没有惊叫。
我不认为你相信我有能力这么谨慎。
要是你知道，那些面纱如何谋杀
我的白昼。
对你而言它们只是透明物，洁净的空气。
但是，天啊，云朵们就像棉花——
形成军团。它们是一氧化碳。
甜蜜地，我甜蜜地吸入，
以隐身之物充盈我的静脉，以一百万粒
可能的尘埃，将年岁从我的生命中勾去。
为这一幕你穿上了银色西服。噢加法计算机——
你是否可能放弃某事物，让它完好如初？
你必须得为每块碎片盖上紫色邮戳？
你必须杀死你能杀死的所有？
今天我就想要一样东西，只有你能给我。
它站在我的窗畔，和天空一样大。
它从我的床单中呼吸，冰冷的死亡中心
那儿，崩裂的生命凝固着，僵硬着成为历史。
不要用邮件寄送，一根手指接着另一根。
不要用口中的话语寄送，等它全部送达
我都该六十了，已经麻痹到用不了它。
只要放下面纱，面纱，面纱。
如果它是死亡
我会欣赏它深沉的庄肃，它亘古的双眸。
我会知道你是认真的。
那么就会有某种高贵，就会有生日。
刀子就不会雕刻，而是切入
纯洁而干净，如婴儿的哭声，
宇宙就会从我的侧边轻轻滑开去。
▎A Birthday Present
What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is what I want.
When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking, I feel it thinking
'Is this the one I am too appear for,
Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits and a scar?
Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules.
Is this the one for the annunciation?
My god, what a laugh!'
But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me.
I would not mind if it were bones, or a pearl button.
I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.
I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,
The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!
It must be a tusk there, a ghost column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.
Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed--I do not mind if it is small.
Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
Let us sit down to it, one on either side, admiring the gleam,
The glaze, the mirrory variety of it.
Let us eat our last supper at it, like a hospital plate.
I know why you will not give it to me,
You are terrified
The world will go up in a shriek, and your head with it,
Bossed, brazen, an antique shield,
A marvel to your great-grandchildren.
Do not be afraid, it is not so.
I will only take it and go aside quietly.
You will not even hear me opening it, no paper crackle,
No falling ribbons, no scream at the end.
I do not think you credit me with this discretion.
If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.
But my god, the clouds are like cotton.
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide.
Sweetly, sweetly I breathe in,
Filling my veins with invisibles, with the million
Probable motes that tick the years off my life.
You are silver-suited for the occasion. O adding machine——
Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece purple,
Must you kill what you can?
There is one thing I want today, and only you can give it to me.
It stands at my window, big as the sky.
It breathes from my sheets, the cold dead center
Where split lives congeal and stiffen to history.
Let it not come by the mail, finger by finger.
Let it not come by word of mouth, I should be sixty
By the time the whole of it was delivered, and to numb to use it.
Only let down the veil, the veil, the veil.
If it were death
I would admire the deep gravity of it, its timeless eyes.
I would know you were serious.
There would be a nobility then, there would be a birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.
▎十一月的信
爱情，这世界
突然变更，变更了色彩。街灯
早晨九点通过鼠尾
劈开了金链花之荚。
这儿是北极，
这小小的，黑色的
圆圈，它的黄褐色丝草——婴儿毛发。
空中有一种绿色，
柔软而美味。
它慈爱地托住我。
我涨红了脸，感到暖和。
我想我或许是庞然大物，
我愚蠢地快乐着，
我的惠灵顿雨靴
扑哧扑哧踩过美丽的红色。
这是我的财产。
一日两次
我踏过它，嗅着
野冬青那鲜翠欲滴的
扇贝，纯铁，
还有那腐尸之墙。
我爱它们。
我爱它们就像爱历史。
苹果是金黄的，
想象一下——
我的七十棵树
捧着它们金黄红润的球体
在一道醇厚、灰色的死亡浓汤里，
它们数百万计的
金叶子呈金属质，屏住了呼吸。
哦爱情，哦独身的人。
除我外再无他人
走过齐腰深的雨水。
那不可替代的
黄金流着血，加深着，是温泉关山口。
▎Letter In November
Love, the world
Suddenly turns, turns color. The streetlight
Splits through the rat's tail
Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning.
It is the Arctic,
This little black
Circle, with its tawn silk grasses - babies hair.
There is a green in the air,
Soft, delectable.
It cushions me lovingly.
I am flushed and warm.
I think I may be enormous,
I am so stupidly happy,
My Wellingtons
Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.
This is my property.
Two times a day
I pace it, sniffing
The barbarous holly with its viridian
Scallops, pure iron,
And the wall of the odd corpses.
I love them.
I love them like history.
The apples are golden,
Imagine it——
My seventy trees
Holding their gold-ruddy *****
In a thick gray death-soup,
Their million
Gold leaves metal and breathless.
O love, O celibate.
Nobody but me
Walks the waist high wet.
The irreplaceable
Golds bleed and deepen, the mouths of Thermopylae.
▎失忆
没用了，没用了，现在乞求被认出！
对这么一条漂亮的毯子，除了抚平它，别无可做。
姓名，房子，车钥匙，
小巧的玩具妻子——
擦去了，叹息，叹息。
四个婴儿和一个斗鸡士！
蠕虫大小的护士，迷你医生
把他塞进来。
古老的事件
从他的表皮剥落。
让这一切都进入下水道！
拥抱着他的枕头
如那个他从不敢触碰的红发姐妹，
他幻想一个新的——
不育，这一批是不育的！
是另一种颜色。
他们将如何旅行，旅行，旅行，风景
从他们兄妹的臀部迸出火花
一条彗星尾巴！
而钱是这一切的精液流。
一个护士带进
一种绿色饮料，另一个带进蓝饮料。
她们星星般从他的两侧升起。
两种饮料冒起火焰，泛着泡沫。
哦姐妹，母亲，妻子，
甜蜜的忘川是我的生命。
我永不，永不，永不回家去！
▎Amnesiac
No use, no use, now, begging Recognize!
There is nothing to do with such a beautiful blank but smooth it.
Name, house, car keys,
The little toy wife——
Erased, sigh, sigh.
Four babies and a cocker!
Nurses the size of worms and a minute doctor
Tuck him in.
Old happenings
Peel from his skin.
Down the drain with all of it!
Hugging his pillow
Like the red-headed sister he never dared to touch,
He dreams of a new one——
Barren, the lot are barren!
And of another color.
How they'll travel, travel, travel, scenery
Sparking off their brother-sister rears
A comet tail!
And money the sperm fluid of it all.
One nurse brings in
A green drink, one a blue.
They rise on either side of him like stars.
The two drinks flame and foam.
O sister, mother, wife,
Sweet Lethe is my life.
I am never, never, never coming home!
▎对手
假如月亮微笑，她就会像你。
你们留下了相似的印记
一种美丽而摧枯拉朽之物。
你二人是了不起的借光者。
她以O形口悲悼着世界；你的无动于衷，
和你的初次馈赠，正使一切化为石头。
我在一座皇陵中醒来；你在这儿，
手指轻叩大理石桌，寻找着香烟，
可鄙如女人，但不那么紧张，
焦灼地想说出不容回答的话语。
月亮也一样，贬抑她的臣民，
但白昼里她多么荒谬。
而你的愤愤不平却有规律地
爱怜地驾临信箱槽口，
白而且空，易胀如一氧化碳。
无一日幸免于来自你的消息：
你或许在非洲流浪，却想着我。
▎The Rival
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,
And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
The moon, too, abuses her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.
No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.
#
以上中文译本来自诗集《爱丽尔》
包慧怡翻译
南海出版公司，2015年
英文文本来自网络
#
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
大部分时间我在冥想对面的墙壁
粉色，带有斑点，我已经看了这么久
我想它就是我内心的一部分。但它闪现着
面孔和黑暗一次又一次将我们分开。
——《镜子》（ 杨略 译 ）
诗 人 简 介
Sylvia Plath
1932.10.27－1963.02.11
“I desire the things
which will destroy me in the end.”
西尔维娅·普拉斯，美国自白派诗人的代表。继艾米莉·狄金森和伊丽莎白·毕肖普之后最重要的美国女诗人。出生于美国麻萨诸塞州的波士顿地区。1955年，普拉斯以优异成绩毕业于史密斯女子学院，之后获得富布赖特奖学金去英国剑桥大学深造，并在那里遇到了后来成为桂冠诗人的特德·休斯，两人于1956年6月结婚。1960年，普拉斯出版了她的第一部诗集《巨神像及其他诗作》（The Colossus and Other Poems）。不久，因丈夫有外遇婚姻出现问题，1962年离异。1963年2月11日，在伦敦的寓所自杀身亡。普拉斯死后出版的诗集包括《爱丽尔》（Ariel），《涉水》（Crossing the Water）等以及唯一的一部小说《钟形罩》（The Bell Jar）。1982年获追颁普利策文学奖。