'Berck-Plage' by Sylvia Plath
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(1)
This is the sea, then, this great abeyance.
How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation.
Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped from the freeze
By pale girls, travel the air in scorched hands.
Why is it so quiet, what are they hiding?
I have two legs, and I move smilingly..
A sandy damper kills the vibrations;
It stretches for miles, the shrunk voices
Waving and crutchless, half their old size.
The lines of the eye, scalded by these bald surfaces,
Boomerang like anchored elastics, hurting the owner.
Is it any wonder he puts on dark glasses?
Is it any wonder he affects a black cassock?
Here he comes now, among the mackerel gatherers
Who wall up their backs against him.
They are handling the black and green lozenges like the parts of a body.
The sea, that crystallized these,
Creeps away, many-snaked, with a long hiss of distress.
(2)
This black boot has no mercy for anybody.
Why should it, it is the hearse of a dad foot,
The high, dead, toeless foot of this priest
Who plumbs the well of his book,
The bent print bulging before him like scenery.
Obscene bikinis hid in the dunes,
Breasts and hips a confectioner's sugar
Of little crystals, titillating the light,
While a green pool opens its eye,
Sick with what it has swallowed----
Limbs, images, shrieks. Behind the concrete bunkers
Two lovers unstick themselves.
O white sea-crockery,
What cupped sighs, what salt in the throat....
And the onlooker, trembling,
Drawn like a long material
Through a still virulence,
And a weed, hairy as privates.
(3)
On the balconies of the hotel, things are glittering.
Things, things----
Tubular steel wheelchairs, aluminum crutches.
Such salt-sweetness. Why should I walk
Beyond the breakwater, spotty with barnacles?
I am not a nurse, white and attendant,
I am not a smile.
These children are after something, with hooks and cries,
And my heart too small to bandage their terrible faults.
This is the side of a man: his red ribs,
The nerves bursting like trees, and this is the surgeon:
One mirrory eye----
A facet of knowledge.
On a striped mattress in one room
An old man is vanishing.
There is no help in his weeping wife.
Where are the eye-stones, yellow and valuable,
And the tongue, sapphire of ash.
(4)
A wedding-cake face in a paper frill.
How superior he is now.
It is like possessing a saint.
The nurses in their wing-caps are no longer so beautiful;
They are browning, like touched gardenias.
The bed is rolled from the wall.
This is what it is to be complete. It is horrible.
Is he wearing pajamas or an evening suit
Under the glued sheet from which his powdery beak
Rises so whitely unbuffeted?
They propped his jaw with a book until it stiffened
And folded his hands, that were shaking: goodbye, goodbye.
Now the washed sheets fly in the sun,
The pillow cases are sweetening.
It is a blessing, it is a blessing:
The long coffin of soap-colored oak,
The curious bearers and the raw date
Engraving itself in silver with marvelous calm.
(5)
The gray sky lowers, the hills like a green sea
Run fold upon fold far off, concealing their hollows,
The hollows in which rock the thoughts of the wife----
Blunt, practical boats
Full of dresses and hats and china and married daughters.
In the parlor of the stone house
One curtain is flickering from the open window,
Flickering and pouring, a pitiful candle.
This is the tongue of the dead man: remember, remember.
How far he is now, his actions
Around him like living room furniture, like a décor.
As the pallors gather----
The pallors of hands and neighborly faces,
The elate pallors of flying iris.
They are flying off into nothing: remember us.
The empty benches of memory look over stones,
Marble facades with blue veins, and jelly-glassfuls of daffodils.
It is so beautiful up here: it is a stopping place.
(6)
The natural fatness of these lime leaves!----
Pollarded green balls, the trees march to church.
The voice of the priest, in thin air,
Meets the corpse at the gate,
Addressing it, while the hills roll the notes of the dead bell;
A glittler of wheat and crude earth.
What is the name of that color?----
Old blood of caked walls the sun heals,
Old blood of limb stumps, burnt hearts.
The widow with her black pocketbook and three daughters,
Necessary among the flowers,
Enfolds her lace like fine linen,
Not to be spread again.
While a sky, wormy with put-by smiles,
Passes cloud after cloud.
And the bride flowers expend a freshness,
And the soul is a bride
In a still place, and the groom is red and forgetful, he is featureless.
(7)
Behind the glass of this car
The world purrs, shut-off and gentle.
And I am dark-suited and still, a member of the party,
Gliding up in low gear behind the cart.
And the priest is a vessel,
A tarred fabric, sorry and dull,
Following the coffin on its flowery cart like a beautiful woman,
A crest of breasts, eyelids and lips
Storming the hilltop.
Then, from the barred yard, the children
Smell the melt of shoe-blacking,
Their faces turning, wordless and slow,
Their eyes opening
On a wonderful thing----
Six round black hats in the grass and a lozenge of wood,
And a naked mouth, red and awkward.
For a minute the sky pours into the hole like plasma.
There is no hope, it is given up.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Berck-Plage by Sylvia Plath: A Deep Dive into the Poem
Berck-Plage is one of the most haunting and deeply disturbing poems written by Sylvia Plath, a poet who's well-known for her dark and complex works. The poem was written in 1956 when Plath was still a student at Cambridge University, and was first published in the British magazine 'The Listener'. In this essay, we will explore the various themes, motifs and symbols used by Plath in Berck-Plage and delve into the psychological and emotional intricacies of the poem.
The Setting
Berck-Plage is a seaside town in northern France, known for its sanatoriums and hospitals that specialize in treating tuberculosis. The town is a bleak and desolate place, and Plath uses vivid imagery to create a sense of starkness and despair. The opening lines of the poem are particularly striking:
"On the seafront of pale Berck Undertakers drove by with blank faces"
Here, Plath sets the tone for the rest of the poem, painting a picture of a place that's devoid of life and hope. The presence of the undertakers is ominous, suggesting that death is an ever-present reality in this town.
The Theme of Death
Death is a recurring theme in Berck-Plage, and it's explored in various ways throughout the poem. Plath uses death as a metaphor for the sickness and decay that she witnesses in Berck-Plage. The patients in the sanatoriums are described as "worms", "ghosts" and "corpses", highlighting the physical toll that their illnesses have taken on them. Plath's descriptions of their suffering are vivid and disturbing:
"Their lungs Stopper the sea. From the hills The road winds downward to pool Where the town lies drowned in its own Diesel exhaust."
Here, Plath juxtaposes the beauty of the sea with the ugliness of the town, suggesting that death and decay have polluted even the natural world. The use of the word "pool" instead of "ocean" or "sea" is significant, as it implies stagnation and decay.
The Symbolism of Water
Water is a powerful symbol in Berck-Plage, representing both life and death. The sea is described as "pale", "icy" and "grey", creating a sense of unease and foreboding. The patients in the sanatoriums are "drowned" in their own suffering, and the sea becomes a metaphor for the overwhelming nature of their illnesses. Water is also used to explore the idea of purification and renewal. Plath describes the patients as "bathing their terrible meat", suggesting that they are trying to cleanse themselves of their illnesses in the hope of finding some kind of relief.
The Use of Imagery
Plath's use of imagery in Berck-Plage is both powerful and unsettling. She describes the patients in the sanatoriums as "ticking like bombs", suggesting that their illnesses are ticking time bombs waiting to go off. The use of the word "bomb" is significant, as it implies both destruction and a sudden, violent end. Plath also uses animal imagery to describe the patients, comparing them to "worms" and "ghosts". This creates a sense of dehumanization, suggesting that the patients are no longer seen as individuals but as mere objects of medical treatment.
The Representation of Women
Plath's representation of women in Berck-Plage is complex and nuanced. The patients in the sanatoriums are predominantly female, and Plath presents them as strong and resilient in the face of death. They are described as "war-worn", "unbeaten" and "unvanquished", suggesting that they are fighting a battle against their illnesses that they refuse to lose. However, Plath also presents women as objects of male desire, suggesting that their bodies are being exploited for the pleasure of men. The nurses are described as "panderers" and "brokers", highlighting the commodification of female bodies.
The Role of the Poet
The role of the poet in Berck-Plage is ambiguous. Plath uses the first person throughout the poem, suggesting that she is a witness to the suffering of the patients in the sanatoriums. However, she also distances herself from their pain, describing it in almost clinical terms. Plath's use of language is detached and analytical, creating a sense of emotional numbness that is unsettling. This suggests that the poet's role is to observe and document, rather than to empathize or intervene.
Conclusion
Berck-Plage is a powerful poem that explores the themes of death, decay and suffering. Plath's use of imagery is vivid and unsettling, creating a sense of unease that lingers long after the poem has ended. The representation of women is complex and nuanced, highlighting both their strength and their exploitation. Ultimately, Berck-Plage is a poem that challenges us to confront the reality of death and to consider our own mortality.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Berck-Plage: A Hauntingly Beautiful Poem by Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath is a name that needs no introduction in the world of literature. Her works have been celebrated for their raw and honest portrayal of the human experience. One such work is the poem Berck-Plage, which was written in 1956. The poem is a hauntingly beautiful depiction of a hospital ward in Berck-Plage, a seaside town in France. In this article, we will delve into the depths of this poem and explore its themes, imagery, and symbolism.
The poem begins with the line "On the sand-dunes I heard a dead man's voice." This line sets the tone for the rest of the poem. It is a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death. The speaker then goes on to describe the hospital ward, which is filled with "white cages" and "white coats." The use of the color white is significant here. White is often associated with purity and innocence, but in this context, it takes on a more ominous tone. The white cages and coats represent the sterile and clinical nature of the hospital ward. It is a place where life is reduced to its most basic and mechanical form.
The speaker then goes on to describe the patients in the ward. They are "strapped to their beds" and "doped and incurious." The use of the word "strapped" is particularly jarring. It conjures up images of restraint and confinement. The patients are not free to move or explore the world around them. They are trapped in their own bodies, unable to escape the pain and suffering that comes with illness.
The speaker then describes the sea outside the hospital ward. It is a "grey, flat, vast, indifferent" sea. The sea is a symbol of life and vitality, but in this context, it is portrayed as cold and uncaring. It is a reminder that life goes on, even in the face of death and suffering. The sea is a constant presence, a reminder that the world outside the hospital ward is still turning.
The poem then takes a turn towards the surreal. The speaker describes a "black nurse" who is "feeding the patient's maggots." This image is both grotesque and fascinating. It is a reminder that even in the face of death, life still finds a way to thrive. The maggots are a symbol of decay and decomposition, but they are also a symbol of renewal and rebirth. They are feeding on the dead flesh, but they are also breaking it down and turning it into something new.
The poem then ends with the line "I am the same, in my way." This line is a powerful reminder that we are all connected in some way. The speaker may not be a patient in the hospital ward, but she is still a part of the same world. She is still subject to the same forces of life and death. The poem is a reminder that we are all in this together, whether we like it or not.
In conclusion, Berck-Plage is a hauntingly beautiful poem that explores the themes of life, death, and the human experience. The imagery and symbolism used in the poem are powerful and evocative. The poem is a reminder that life is fragile and fleeting, but it is also a reminder that even in the face of death and suffering, life still finds a way to thrive. Sylvia Plath was a master of her craft, and Berck-Plage is a testament to her talent and skill.
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