Poem
Frieda Hughes
STONEPICKER
DE STENENRAAPSTER
Ze staat daar krom als een boog,Alsof haar riem strak
Om haar middel klemt.
Maar dat is schijn, wat ze doet
Is stenen rapen uit het gruis
Voor de zak over haar schouder.
Die is haar dode albatros,
Haar kruis, haar keuze,
Daarin schuilen haar wapens.
Elke bol van graniet
Of vuursteen uit de zee
Weegt als een zware zonde,
Waardoor je niet kunt winnen.
Ze roept je naderbij, maar
Niet om je binnen te laten, alleen
Om beter te kunnen richten.
From: De stenenraapster
Publisher: 2002, Wereldbibliotheek, Amsterdam
Publisher: 2002, Wereldbibliotheek, Amsterdam
STONEPICKER
She is scooped out and bow-like,As if her string
Has been drawn tight.
But really, she is
Plucking stones from the dirt
For her shoulder-bag.
It is her dead albatross,
Her cross, her choice,
In it lie her weapons.
Each granite sphere
Or sea-worn flint
Has weight against your sin,
You cannot win.
She calls you close,
But not to let you in, only
For a better aim.
From: Stonepicker
Publisher: Bloodaxe,
Publisher: Bloodaxe,
Frieda Hughes
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1960)
Frieda Hughes published six children’s books before she finally summoned enough courage to publish her first volume of poetry, Wooroloo (1999). This hesitation is understandable, considering the fact that she is the daughter of two celebrated poets, the British poet Ted Hughes and American poet Sylvia Plath. It was inevitable that Frieda should in some way undergo the influence of two poet-pare...
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Poems of Frieda Hughes
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STONEPICKER
She is scooped out and bow-like,As if her string
Has been drawn tight.
But really, she is
Plucking stones from the dirt
For her shoulder-bag.
It is her dead albatross,
Her cross, her choice,
In it lie her weapons.
Each granite sphere
Or sea-worn flint
Has weight against your sin,
You cannot win.
She calls you close,
But not to let you in, only
For a better aim.
From: Stonepicker
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