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  • 作词 : Sylvia Plath
    作曲 : Ciel Mott
    Two, of course there are two.
    It seems perfectly natural now ---
    The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
    And balled,like Blake's.
    Who exhibits

    The birthmarks that are his trademark ---
    The scald scar of water,
    The nude
    Verdigris of the condor.
    I am red meat. His beak

    Claps sidewise: I am not his yet.
    He tells me how badly I photograph.
    He tells me how sweet
    The babies look in their hospital
    Icebox, a simple

    Frill at the neck
    Then the flutings of their Ionian
    Death-gowns.
    Then two little feet.
    He does not smile or smoke.

    The other does that
    His hair long and plausive
    Bastard
    Masturbating a glitter
    He wants to be loved.

    I do not stir.
    The frost makes a flower,
    The dew makes a star,
    The dead bell,
    The dead bell.

    Somebody's done for.
  • 作词 : Sylvia Plath
    作曲 : Ciel Mott
    Two, of course there are two.
    It seems perfectly natural now ---
    The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
    And balled,like Blake's.
    Who exhibits

    The birthmarks that are his trademark ---
    The scald scar of water,
    The nude
    Verdigris of the condor.
    I am red meat. His beak

    Claps sidewise: I am not his yet.
    He tells me how badly I photograph.
    He tells me how sweet
    The babies look in their hospital
    Icebox, a simple

    Frill at the neck
    Then the flutings of their Ionian
    Death-gowns.
    Then two little feet.
    He does not smile or smoke.

    The other does that
    His hair long and plausive
    Bastard
    Masturbating a glitter
    He wants to be loved.

    I do not stir.
    The frost makes a flower,
    The dew makes a star,
    The dead bell,
    The dead bell.

    Somebody's done for.