Ted Hughes va pătrunde în colţul poeţilor

Geniul poetului britanic Ted Hughes va fi omagiat printr-o placă comemorativă în celebrul “colţ al poeţilor” din Westminster Abbey, la începutul anului viitor.Poetul cunoscut pentru volumele “Crow” şi “Birthday Letters”, decedat în 1998, intră astfel în cercul poeţilor importanţi din Marea Britanie, alături de Shakespeare, Keats, Shelley, Blake şi Charles Dickens.

“Colţul poeţilor” este considerat de britanici un loc binecuvântat, un altar naţional al celor mai apreciaţi scriitori.

În acest moment conducerea din Wesminster se gândeşte cum va suna şi cum va arăta placa comemorativă în onoarea lui Ted Hughes, menită să amintească oamenilor de contribuţia sa majoră în literatură.

Edward James Hughes (1930-1998) s-a născut în orăşelul Yorkshire şi a fost în mod constant considerat de criticii vremii unul dintre cei mai buni poeţi ai generaţiei sale. Din 1984 şi până la momentul morţii sale, în 1998, a fost an de an laureat.

Hughes a fost căsătorit cu poeta americană Sylvia Plath din 1956 până la moartea acesteia, în 1963, când s-a sinucis.

The Times l-a plasat pe Hughes în 2008 pe locul patru al celor mai mari 50 de scriitori britanici.

Ted Hughes – Lovesong

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and Sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Or everlasting or whatever there was
Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His word were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assasin’s attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon’s gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall
Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other’s face.