child's park stones

• bir sylvia plath şiiri:
  
  in sunless air, under pines
  green to the point of blackness, some
  founding father set these lobed, warped stones
  to loom in the leaf-filtered gloom
  black as the charred knuckle-bones
  
  of a giant or extinct
  animal, come from another
  age, another planet surely. flanked
  by the orange and fuchsia bonfire
  of azaleas, sacrosanct
  
  these stones guard a dark repose
  and keep their shapes intact while sun
  alters shadows of rose and iris ---
  long, short, long --- in the lit garden
  and kindles a day's-end blaze
  
  colored to dull the pigment
  of azaleas, yet burnt out
  quick as they. to follow the light's tint
  and intensity by midnight
  by noon and throughout the brunt
  
  of various weathers is
  to know the still heart of the stones:
  stones that take the whole summer to lose
  their dream of the winter's cold; stones
  warming at core only as
  
  frost forms. no man's crowbar could
  uproot them: their beards are ever-
  green. nor do they, once in a hundred
  years, go down to drink the river:
  no thirst disturbs a stone's bed.
• "(...) alacakaranlıkta yemyeşil parkta yürüyüşe çıktık - "child's park stones" (çocuğun park taşları) adında güzel, hece ölçülü bir şiir yazdım, sıra sıra uçuk turuncu ve fuşya^* açelyalara bu parkın amerika'daki en sevdiğim yer olduğunu hissediyorum." sylvia plath - the journals of sylvia plath
  
  (bkz: hapse göndermek)