Ted Hughes: Birthday Letters
”You revelled in red.
I felt raw – like the crisp gauze edges
Of a stiffening wound. I could touch
The open vein in it, the crusted gleam.
Everything you painted you painted white
Then splashed it with roses, defeated it,
Leaned over it, dripping roses,
Then sometimes, among them, a little bluebird.
Blue was better for you. Blue was wings.
Kingfisher blue silks from San Francisco
Folded your pregnancy
In crucible caresses.
Blue was your kindly spirit – not a ghoul
But electrified, a guardian, thoughtful.
On the pit of red
You hid from the bone-clinic-whiteness.
But the jewel you lost was blue.”
Ted Hughes julkaisi kokoelman Birthday Letters vain muutama kuukausi ennen kuolemaansa. Kokoelma on omistettu Friedalle ja Nicholakselle, Sylvia Plathin ja Ted Hughesin yhteisille lapsille. Se avaa Hughesin kokemuksen pariskunnan suhteesta ja antaa ikkunan Sylvia Plathiin. Kuinka ”tosi” se sitten on, vaikea sanoa, mahdotonkin. Toisaalta kaikki näkökulmat ihmiseen kai ovat tosia, sille joka näkee.
