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她的诗歌选集曾因“改变当代诗歌创作方向”而获得普利策诗歌奖；她和英国桂冠诗人特德·休斯的恋情与婚变成为英美文坛的一桩著名公案；女权主义者、忧郁症患者、迷乱而热烈的诗人、因悲伤而自杀的女人……这些身份，纠缠着她短暂的一生……

普拉斯：“活得精彩又乱糟糟的女人”--袁楠

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灰姑娘

那王子倾身向穿鲜红色高跟鞋的姑娘，
她碧绿的双目斜视，随着回旋曲缓缓播放
那扇形的银发飘逸  闪烁波光
现在舞曲以翘起的小提琴开始  持续悠扬

那整体旋转的高大玻璃殿堂
宾客如酒悄悄滑进灯光；
玫瑰蜡烛摇曳在紫丁香墙上
映射着百万葡萄酒瓶的光亮，

而滑移的舞伴们都昏旋迷转
领会假日开始的长长的陶醉，
临近午夜十二点那奇怪的姑娘突然
象被击而止，紧握王子，面色苍白仿佛负罪

在忙乱的音乐和鸡尾酒交谈中
她听到敲响了尖利刺耳的钟。

Cinderella

The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.

尼克与烛台

我是矿工。灯燃蓝光。
蜡状的钟乳石
滴泪变粗，

大地的子宫

自它死寂乏味中渗出。
黑蝙蝠氛围

包裹我，穿破的披肩，
冷酷杀手。
他们象铅垂的李子焊接于我。

钙冰柱的老山洞，
老应声虫。
连蝾螈都是白的，

那些道貌岸然的家伙。
而那鱼，那鱼—
天哪！它们是冰玻璃块，

一个刀之恶钳
一个食人鱼
宗教，从

我活脚趾里吸吮出其初次圣餐
那蜡烛
吞咽并恢复其微小高度，

它黄色的激励。
啊，亲爱的，你是如何来到这里？
啊，胎儿

甚至在睡眠中，还记得
你交叉虬结的姿态。
血碧花洁

在你之中，红宝石。
你认识到的
那痛不是你的。

亲爱的，亲爱的，
我已用玫瑰悬挂我们的山洞。
加上柔软的毛毯—

最后的维多利亚时代的文物。
让群星
垂直落至它们黑暗的地址，

让致残的
汞原子滴入
那可怕深井，

你是那一个
太空倚靠，羡慕的固体。
你就是那婴孩 在谷仓之中。

Nick and the Candlestick
 

I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish—
Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs—

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.

波莉的树

一棵梦想树，波莉的树：

一束满是枝条的灌木丛，

每个有斑点的细枝

末梢都以薄薄的叶子而终

犹如镶嵌的玻璃碎片

彼此各不相同

或终结于一朵鬼花

平平如纸且

色彩蒙胧

好象霜结的哈气，

挑剔过任何

丝绸扇子

中国女人用来把

知更鸟蛋搅入

空气。银色

有毛的乳草种子

到达那里的鸟巢，

虚弱似一根蜡烛

火焰周围放射出

的晕环，一个鬼火

光轮，或烟云

装饰她怪异的

分枝烛台的尖端。

烛花的黯淡之光

透过环状羽毛的蒲公英，

白色菊花瓣和

一枚虎面

紫罗兰，鲜艳夺目。

啊，这不是家庭树，

波莉的树，也不是

一棵天堂的树，

尽管它和石英片，

羽毛和玫瑰结婚。

它源自于她的枕头

完整如一张蜘蛛网

有棱纹象一只手，

一棵梦想树。波莉的树

戴着一件情人节礼物

泪珍珠的弧形饰物

在它袖子上的荷包牡丹

并，为它加冕，一颗

蓝色的飞燕草星。

Polly's Tree
 

A dream tree, Polly's tree:
a thicket of sticks,
each speckled twig

ending in a thin-paned
leaf unlike any
other on it

or in a ghost flower
flat as paper and
of a color

vaporish as frost-breath,
more finical than
any silk fan

the Chinese ladies use
to stir robin's egg
air. The silver -

haired seed of the milkweed
comes to roost there, frail
as the halo

rayed round a candle flame,
a will-o'-the-wisp
nimbus, or puff

of cloud-stuff, tipping her
queer candelabrum.
Palely lit by

snuff-ruffed dandelions,
white daisy wheels and
a tiger faced

pansy, it glows. O it's
no family tree,
Polly's tree, nor

a tree of heaven, though
it marry quartz-flake,
feather and rose.

It sprang from her pillow
whole as a cobweb
ribbed like a hand,

a dream tree. Polly's tree
wears a valentine
arc of tear-pearled

bleeding hearts on its sleeve
and, crowning it, one
blue larkspur star.

言词

斧头
在它将树木击响后
振荡回声！
回声外传
象马儿自中心跑散。

树汁
涌出如泪，象
水正奋力
重建它的镜子
在岩石上面

落石急转，
一个白色的头骨，
被蔓延的绿吞食。
多年以后我
在路上遇到它们—

言词干瘪无人驾驭，
马蹄声声不疲不倦
而
从这水坑之底，不变的星星
将一个生命统管。
 

Words

Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the center like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road-

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.

--by Sylvia Plath