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World Poetry Month: Day Twenty Three
Today’s poetry is ‘Lady Lazarus’ a poem by Sylvia Plath. ‘Lady Lazarus’ depicts Sylvia Plath’s mental transformation before her third suicide attempt after her previous failures.
Plath’s soul is known for being tortured. The reader is drawn to this poem because of this. Agony has been experienced by most people at least once in their lives.
The poem reflects Plath’s lifelong struggle with depression and her quest to understand herself.
Death and suicidal thoughts are the main themes of this poem. A ten-year cycle of suicide attempts has been described by the speaker.
At ten, her first attempt was not an attempt at all. It was just a simple accident. On the other hand, she was determined to achieve her goal of self-destruction on the second attempt. This attempt, however, did not bear fruit either.
As a result, she felt bitter feelings towards those around her. She reveals that the doctor who saved her is the greatest opponent between her and her goal.
Therefore, before the last attempt, she says bluntly, “No matter what happens.”. Then, like a phoenix, she will rise and devour men.
In this poem, Sylvia Plath refers to death by titling it ‘Lady Lazarus’. Plath’s poem is inspired by the well-known bible character Lazarus, who was brought back to life three days after he was placed in a tomb.
Like the biblical story of Lazarus being raised from the dead, this poem will be about victory over death.
As opposed to the revived Lazarus, Plath identifies with the decaying Lazarus in the tomb.
‘Lady Lazarus’ By Sylvia Plath ▶️
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it——
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
My face a featureless, fine
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot——
The big strip tease.
These are my hands
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.
It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart——
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
Someone sings across the river
कोई पार नदी के गाता
You May Like To Check Out
- World Poetry Month: Day One
- World Poetry Month: Day Two
- World Poetry Month: Day Three
- World Poetry Month: Day Four
- World Poetry Month: Day Five
- World Poetry Month: Day Six
- World Poetry Month: Day Seven
- World Poetry Month: Day Eight
- World Poetry Month: Day Nine
- World Poetry Month: Day Ten
- World Poetry Month: Day Eleven
- World Poetry Month: Day Twelve
- World Poetry Month: Day Thirteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Fourteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Fifteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Sixteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Seventeen
- World Poetry Month: Day Eighteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Nineteen
- World Poetry Month: Day Twenty
- World Poetry Month: Day Twenty-One
- World Poetry Month: Day Twenty Two
Someone Sings Across the river
Often I use to come
To enjoy the cool breezes of the river
To enjoy the fishes springing and diving
To enjoy the crystalline river water
Tickling my feet
To enjoy the morning roar of the side brooks
To enjoy the fragrance of the wild roses
I often use to listen
Someone singing across the river
Sound so pious , so melodious
Often use to get lost in it
The curiosity to see that soul
Pushed me a day across the river
That morning , how can I forget…
Rowing the boat I came across the river
Hid myself in the bushes
Amazed to see a beautiful mermaid
Swaying from the water , sat on the stone
That divine beauty in that watery soul
Long hairs swaying in wind
Creamy dazzling skin in the morning rays
When started to sing , left me spellbound
I got lost in her , sat a long time
Just I wanted to go and touch her
But the moment I got up
She disappeared in the river water .
The mysteries of universe
Often jingles my mind and soul
कोई पार नदी के गाता
कोई पार नदी के गाता
जबकि नहीं है उससे कोई नाता,
उसका मधुर स्वर मन को भाता
जीवन की मधुर तान है सुनाता
उसकी लय से आनंदित होकर
नदिया की तरंगे नाच उठें ,
स्वर्णिम किरणों की आभा से
लगता जैसे मन की बात कहें l
नदी का प्रवाह भी गायन रस में डूब रहा l
अनवरत चलते रहने का जज़्बा
गायक के सुरों से सीख रहा l
कर्ण प्रिय सुर उस गायक के
जीवन में उमंग रस घोल रहे l
उत्साहित हो जीवन को जी लो
यह सन्देश भी कह हैं रहे l
कोई पार नदी के गाता l
अब तो लगता है उससे
बन गया है कोई अंतरिम नाता l