SUMMER, MY HEART IS LIKE A JUNGLE

Through fen and farmland walking/With my own country love/I saw slow flocked cows move/White hulks on their day’s cruising;/Sweet grass sprang for their grazing.

The air was bright for looking:/Most far in blue, aloft,/Clouds steered a burnished drift;/Larks’ nip and tuck arising/Came in for my love’s praising.

Sheen of the noonsun striking/Took my heart as if/It were a green-tipped leaf/Kindled by my love’s pleasing/Into an ardent blazing.

And so, together, talking,/Through Sunday’s honey-air/We walked (and still walk there—/Out of the sun’s bruising)/Till the night mists came rising.

 

Song for a Summer’s Day, Sylvia Plath

Photos Marian Pălie
Model Thea Costache

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