A Birthday Present by Sylvia Plath

Lee-Anne Harrison

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Audiobooks

Description

A reading of Sylvia Plath's A Birthday Present

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

Australian

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
a birthday present. What is thiss behind this veil? Is it ugly? Is a beautiful. It is shimmering. Has it breasts? Has it edges? I am sure it is unique. I am sure it is what I want. When I am quite at my cooking, I feel it looking. I feel it thinking. Is this the one I am to appear for? Is this the electron? The one with the black eye pits and a scar measuring the flower cutting of this surplus adhering to rules to rules to rules. Is this the one for the enunciation? My God, what a laugh! But it Sonoma's It does not stop. And I think it wants me. I would not mind if it were bones or a pole passion. I do not want much of a present Anyway. This year, after all, I am alive only by accident. I would have killed myself gladly that time, any possible way. Now there are these veils shimmering like Kirsten's, the diaphanous Sutton's of a January window white, his baby's bedding and glittering with dead breath. Oh, Ivory! It must be a test. There a ghost. Colum, can you not see? I do not mind what it is, can you know? Give it to me. Do not be ashamed. I do not mind if it is small Do not be main. I am ready for enormity. Let us sit down to it. One at either side admiring the gleam, the glaze, the mirror re variety off it. Let us eat. L a separate it like a hospital plate. I know why you will not give it to me. You are terrified The world will go up in a shriek and your head with it. Bossed brazen on antique shield A marvel to your great grandchildren. Do not be afraid. It is not so. I will only take it and go aside quietly. You will not even hear me opening it. No paper crackle, No falling Rubens, No scream at the end. I do not think you credit me with this discretion. If you only knew how the veils were killing my days to you They are only transparency Sze clear, eh? But my God, the clouds are like caution Armies ofthe hm their carbon monoxide swish lee sweetly I breathing filling my veins with invisibles with the million probable Moz that take three years off my life. You are silver suited for the occasion. Oh, adding machine. Is it impossible for you shall let something go and have it go hole. Must you stamp each pace purple? Must you kill what you can? There is one thing I want today and only you can give it to me. It stands at my window because the sky it breathes from my sheets The cold, dead centre where split lives congeal and step into history. Let it not come by the male finger by finger. They did not come by word of mouth. I should be 60 By the time the whole of it was delivered and to numb to use it only let down the veil, the veil, the veil. If it were death, I would admire the deep gravity off it. It's timeless eyes. I would know you were serious. There would be a nobility. Then there would be a birthday and the knife not carved. But inter, pure and clean is the cry of a baby and the universe slide from my side