Modern şiirin en üst noktasına Ted Hughes'u yerleştiren biri olarak, Sylvia Plath'a dair duyduğum derin sevgi, kimilerine göre biraz olasılıksız bir durum. Bu iki mit-şairin birbirlerini sürükledikleri özyıkımsal süreç, ister istemez, insanları taraf tutmaya zorluyor. Bense, tam tersini düşünüyorum. İki şiirsel öznenin kesişiminde büyük bir mit doğuyor ve bu mitin yarattığı etkinin ardında, Hughes ve Plath, tekrar ikiye, kendilerine ayrılabiliyor.
Plath'ın kendine ayırdığı şiir alanında geniş bir yer tutan 'Daddy', üzerinde uzunca bir yazı gerektirecek kadar derinlikli, önemli. Çok önemsediğim 'Daddy' için kısa bir özet geçmek istemeyip, şiir hakkında söyleyeceklerimi erteliyorum.
1962 yılında kaydedilmiş okuma, Plath'ın sesini duymak için sahip olduğumuz ender olanaklardan biri. Plath, BBC ve John Giorno için yaptığı kayıtlardan çok kısa bir süre sonra intihar etti. Aşağıdaki 'Daddy' okumasının ardından dünyada geçen günleri, bir yılı bile doldurmamaktadır.
Not: Şiirin ses kaydını indirmek için gereken linki alttaki altı çizili başlığa sağ tıklayarak yeni pencerede ya da yeni sekmede açabilirsiniz.
Sylvia Plath
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
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare
.Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You----
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do
.I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two---
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
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