“Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted"
- Sylvia Plath's epitaph

O! daughter dear, on this mid-western afternoon,
When I can see all the way to Sacramento, I cry
For you, Ariel-blue, in all your golden-girlhood,
Too lovely for a life of pettiness and strife 
You caught a boat to England, never returned.
No Nazi goblin me, an extraordinary Jew like you,
Beautifully clever Ariel-blue. And, maybe I didn’t talk
To you like I yearned and wanted to: my tongue a knot
Of weasels, a clash of monkeys in a cage, a silence in a rage,
And I cannot turn the page or even look at this memory
Of you, trapped in this manacled-mind of mine. Twisted
By Mr Inexorable, I was always frightened for you,
By all the bad the world could do to you, Ariel-Blue.
I love you Bumblebee-blue. Ich liebe dich Hummel-blau.