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No melon-peddler cries: Bitter melons. No wine-dealer says: Sour wine.

Chinese proverbs
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Bitter

Bitter, bitter, bitter, the taste of men and the curdled perfumes
of their women putting on weight like the moon
and the gaudy hopelessness of their ejaculant children
living in the extinct carapace of a condemned volcano; bitter the lies
they whisper in sleep in dreams to the gods they keep
like spare rooms with skeleton keys
to their public coffins and closets. And bitter the nightwind
that vipers over the schooled sands of their cities
looming a harp of astringent acids into the whole cloth
of a funeral shroud, a body bag to contain the miscreance of their music.
Face after face after face, among orchards, planets, waves,
how many come to fruition, how many fall from ripeness
in unknown places, elicit arms, looking up into the sun that wined them
and sent them away without tears, mysterious sugars
in the fleets of their heart, and seeds, and green
superstitious stars tangled in the lifelines of their unmooring,
to unknown exorcisms on barbarous shores that fear them?
Their blood unspooled like a ribbon for a gift
they never gave, their blood, a scarlet noose of spectral chromosomes
slumped across a bough on the tree of their bitter knowledge
to lynch the lean thief and the ardent stranger
to the rigorous sorrows of their vaporous lustrations; bitter the fate
of the poor as they wait in a traffic jam of genes for the lights to change,
and bitter the restless, blood-drenched soil that receives them
like an embassy overwhelmed by the emergency of their arrival.
Are the paupers of dawn brighter in the root than in the flower,
is there no gentleness left in the flaring poppy to console them,
no milk that isn’t soured, no crumb of light in the pantry
to redeem the crushed heartscapes of a disinfected dream?
Bitter the monstrous sterilities of affluence
that dance on their graves like shovels full of deranged stars
elated by a fate unworthy of their shining, and bitter the church
they pearl around the lie of their filth
to convince the maggot of wings. That song is dead in the mouths of men,
that song is rock that once transformed the desert into roses
and gathered eyes like bees, like poets to their unfolding,
and bitter the aftermath of forgeries that heed the call
but will not answer the singer in the well
hoarse with mysteries in supple tongues
that confound the fallen towers with echoes, thieves, and voiceless birds.
And bitter to know this, bitter to say this, bitter
to discover this truth on the wrecked shores of the heart
the corpse of a beached dolphin suffocating under its own dead weight,
betrayed by the Judas-needle of too many messianic norths.
And there shall be no respite from the pettiness
of the enflamed parasite grown fanatical with the consumption of power,
no grace in the waltz of the tide that wears its gown of oil
like bitter weeds and formic nettles to a funeral ball
celebrating the providential death of excellence, no refuge
from the scorching wind that burns the eyes like glass

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Step On

Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you
Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you
Youre twistin my melon man, you know you talk so hip man
Youre twistin my melon man
Hey rainmaker, come away from that man
You know hes gonna take away your promised land
Hey good lady he just wants what you got you know
Hell never stop until hes taken the lot
(hey hey he hey hey)
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre a man
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre the man
Youre a man
Youre twistin my melon man, you speak so hip
Hey rainmaker he got golden plans I tell you
Youll make a stranger in your own land
Hey good lady hes got God on his side he got a double
Tongue you never think he would lie
(oh he lied, oooh hes twistin my melon man
(oh he lied, oooh hes twistin my melon man)
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre a man
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre the man
Youre the man
Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you
Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you
Hey rainmaker, come away from that man
You know hes gonna take away your promised land
Hey good lady hes got God on his side he got a double
Tongue you never think he would lie
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre a man
Gonna stamp out your fire, he can change your desire
Dont you know he can make you forget youre the man
Youre the man
Youre twistin my melon man, you know you talk so hip man
Youre twistin my melon man
(hey hey he hey hey)
Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you again
Hes gonna step on you again, hes gonna step on you again

song performed by Happy Mondays
Added by Lucian Velea
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Black Market White Baby Dealer

My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me

song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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No melon peddler cries, ""Bitter melons."" No wine dealer says, ""Sour wine.""

Chinese proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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No melon-peddler cries: Bitter melons! No wine-dealer says: Sour wine!

Chinese proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Keep Pushing That Bash Back

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
Don't drag that bashing or be tagged.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You keep pushing,
That bash back!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Cowboys Cry

(monte thomas)
Theres a little boy on his knees beside his bed
With a cowboy hat upon his bowed head
Tryin to keep the tears in his eyes
And his heart breaks as the little cowboy cries
As the cowboy cries
He says God forgive me please
I didnt want my daddy to leave
And I promise to be good this time
But his heart breaks as the little cowboy cries
Theres another heart in pain outside his door
His momma heard him cry as she walked the floor
Her love for his daddy has died
And her heart breaks as her little cowboy cries
As her cowboy cries
She says God forgive me please
I know I made him leave
But the pain will go away in time
But her heart breaks as her little cowboy cries
In a smoky little bar way downtown
His daddy is drinkin whiskey down
Tryin to kill the pain he feels inside
And his heart breaks as his little cowboy cries
And his cowboy cries
He says God forgive me please
I know I had to leave
Things havent been good for a long, long time
And his heart breaks as his little cowboy cries
As his cowboy cries
As his cowboy cries
As his cowboy cries
As his cowboy cries
As the cowboy cries
As the cowboy cries
As the cowboy cries
As the cowboy cries

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Deepness In The Throat

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Look at yourself making so many miscalculations
In your proclamations
As am I
We speak, we learn
We follow through
Like an oppression upon the chest
Looky their its sitting on that shelf
Just reach for it.

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Bang bang the drugs take effect
Are you hallucinating yet.
Don't fret
You'll be soon enough
Think you got it rough
Come on now be tough
Stand up for yourself
Emotional distrust

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Dubmobile

Talking about the reel the reel the reel....
(echo: talking about the reel the reel the reel.... in reverse!)
Dubmobile
Now Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
I see a set of wheels and I like the touch an feel
Me love it even better when me sit behind the wheel
I got ambition an den me find ignition
Then the dealer ask me if I like electric transmission
The dealer asks if me like plenty of vision,
Yes me boss I want no collision
No collision
Now Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
So I take a test drive and eat everything alive
When I clock the needle move, I couldnt believe me eyes
It touched 140 to my suprise
Then I stop an think this car is for me
When me come back him wan talk bout money
Me wan buy the car on h.p.
Long term credit and interest free, five year warranty, guarantee.
The dealer asks me like a power steering
Dealer asks me like overdrive thing. yes me boss but what is
That thing? that me boss a de turbo sintin
Oi me boss you have a deal and at long last I find my dubmobile.
Dubmobile.
Everywhere I go, just rockin and swing, just rockin and swing
Now Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
Im the main man at the microphone stand
I chat two words just to make you understand
Me put in cassette and equalizer
Anywhere me go me can listen reggae star
Now me just cruise to party and thing
Everywhere me go its just rockin and swing
Rockin and swing
Everywhere I go, just rockin and swing, just rockin and swing
Everywhere I go, just rockin and swing, just rockin and swing
The dealer asks me like power steering
Dealer asks me like overdrive thing. yes me boss but what is
That thing? that me boss a de turbo sintin
Oi me boss you have a deal and at long last I find my dubmobile
Me put in cassette and equalizer
Anywhere me go me can listen reggae star
Now me just cruise to party and thing
Everywhere me go its just rockin and swing

[...] Read more

song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sour Lemon Tree

A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree

With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree

A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree

The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.

poem by Clarence Prince
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The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

[...] Read more

poem by Virgil
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The Helot

I.

Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.

II.

Quench'd the fierce Achean gaze,
Dorian foemen paus'd before,
Where cold Sparta snatch'd her bays
At Achaea's stubborn door.

III.

Still with thews of iron bound,
Vastly the Achean rose,
Godward from the brazen ground,
High before his Spartan foes.

IV.

Still the strength his fathers knew
(Dauntless when the foe they fac'd)
Vein and muscle bounded through,
Tense his Helot sinews brac'd.

V.

Still the constant womb of Earth,
Blindly moulded all her part;
As, when to a lordly birth,
Achean freemen left her heart.

VI.

Still, insensate mother, bore
Goodly sons for Helot graves;
Iron necks that meekly wore
Sparta's yoke as Sparta's slaves.

VII.

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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an unhappy childhood of this man who names himself 'I'.....

i've seen this picture of you
on that far corner of the world

land of snow and you are inside that very thick
winter clothes

there is that smile in your face
and i am taking a closer look

it is sour.

i know what sour is. I've been one for forty years
wearing that

sour smile, and i have many reasons why a smile must be sour
for forty years

the reasons are sour
very sour

beyond those tastes of a hundred green lemons

or a green mango with some disturbing gums on its mouth

i burned all my pictures in college
except those when i was yet a boy beside my mama and our white dog

i was in grade one and i did not like school and mama forced me into it

i was selling chocolates and i ate them all and mama was mad at me and beat me with a stick

papa did not like me reading books as he does not know how to read

i climb trees and hide on the leaves and read stories
in our dialect and draw some pictures of women without their dresses on

you see i still have this picture of myself riding a carabao and hauling some wood and coconut palms

i take a close look of my own smile, It is very sour
and it tastes like yours, but perhaps mine is the worst

but i am happy now, i know how to suppress sour smiles, i know how to manage and project myself

i smile like a cow now, and laugh like a horse
because all of them are dead.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet Sour Apple Bites

Orchard of apple and variety
Here you come, the apples lover
Come sing and praise like always
'Shining around the skin
Your colour is my favorite apple
The fresh one
So is your taste'

Apples smile and sing
'If i am green
A sweet sour love
Bite one, bite two
Bite still
Taste me my apples lover
Taste my sweet sour love
I'm green and sour
Pluck me bite me my lover'

The hunter replies
Bite one and some
Tasted your sour love
Bite still because i am the apple lover'

Apples smile continue the song
'If i am red apple
Sweet and moist
Bite one, then two
Bite more
Taste my sweet life
I'm red and taste nice
Bite one bite some
Taste me sweet you will like it'

'Green or Red
Bite sweet or bite sour
I must love you my apples
simply because...
I am the true apple lover'
Explained hunter

Sweet red or sour green
Sugar rich energy will reach your heart sooner
Running in your blood and pump the beat so dear
'O apples my dear i grow you in orchard to be with me so near'
Confessed by gardener, before apple answered
'You work hard and love so sincere, will fruit you love every year'

Bite one, sweet or sour everyday
Promise keeps you away from doctor
Bite one Bite some Bite all say the lover

[...] Read more

poem by Unwritten Soul
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Dealer

If you fool around
With the dealer
Remember soon
Youll have to pay
Hell creep behind you
Like a hunter
Just to steal your soul away
I dont want no one
Messing with my woman
But just the same
I dont see nobody
Fooling with you
If youre snowblind
Madonna can hold you
But if you dont understand
There is nothing she can do for you
Running from the dealer
Trying to save your soul
I can feel the fire
Coming from inside you
I know what its like
Cos Ive been burned before
Aint no mercy
In the hunger but
Youre a fool to yourself
Cos your dealer keeps you begging for more
Running from the dealer
Trying to save your soul
In the beginning all you wanted
Was the calm before the storm
If the bluebird plays the eagle
He finds his song will turn to stone
Dealer

song performed by Deep Purple
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Pusher

(1970) hoyt axton
You know I smoked a lot of grass,oh lord
And I popped a lot of pills
But I never did touch nothing
That my spirit couldnt kill
You know I see a lot of people walkin round
Here with tombstones in their eyes
cause the pusher dont care
Child if you live or if you die
God damn on the pusher, yea yea
I said God damn him
God damn him, pusher man
You know the dealer
I said the dealer is a man
With lots of love racks in his hand
But the pusher is a monster
Good god, oh lord hes my natural man
You know the dealer
The dealer takes a nickel lord
And sells you lots of sweet dreams
And lord knows we need lots a sweet dreams
But here comes the pusher
Takes your body and leaves your mind a screen
God damn on the pusher
I said God damn the pusher
Hes not a natural man
You know the dealer takes a nickel
And he sells a box of sweet dreams
But he pusher takes your body
He takes your body
He takes your body
And he leaves your mind a screen
God damn him
God damn him, God damn him
God damn him, God damn the pusher
If I were the president, hear me, of this land
Id declare totale war on the pusher man
Gimme now, now
Id shoot him if he stands
Id cut him if he runs yea
Id kill him with my bible
My razor and my gun
God damn him, God damn him
Oh, the pusher
God damn the pusher man

song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Pusher

(1970) Hoyt Axton
You know I smoked a lot of grass,Oh Lord
And I popped a lot of pills
But I never did touch nothing
That my spirit couldn't kill
You know I see a lot of people walkin' round
Here with tombstones in their eyes
'Cause the pusher don't care
Child if you live or if you die
God damn on the pusher, yea yea
I said God damn him
God damn him, pusher man
You know the dealer
I said the dealer is a man
With lots of love racks in his hand
But the pusher is a monster
Good God, oh Lord he's my natural man
You know the dealer
The dealer takes a nickel lord
And sells you lots of sweet dreams
And lord knows we need lots a sweet dreams
But here comes the pusher
Takes your body and leaves your mind a screen
God damn on the pusher
I said God damn the pusher
He's not a natural man
You know the dealer takes a nickel
And he sells a box of sweet dreams
But he pusher takes your body
He takes your body
He takes your body
And he leaves your mind a screen
God damn him
God damn him, God damn him
God damn him, God damn the pusher
If I were the president, hear me, of this land
I'd declare totale war on the pusher man
Gimme now, now
I'd shoot him if he stands
I'd cut him if he runs yea
I'd kill him with my Bible
My razor and my gun
God damn him, God damn him
Oh, the pusher
God damn the pusher man

song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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I heard thy verses

I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine,
text lines thank thine Italian fettuccini,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.

Thy bare feet on grapes dance for wine,
Bound to thee my greed for baked panini,
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.

Thy radish desire - in veins is flow malign,
dance fayre amid spud and fresh zucchini,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.

Thy casseroles enjoy thee, as I be on line,
dare to kisse thy big toe- al dente linguini,
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.

Oh, fayre maiden thy kisse doe not decline,
Thy coles 'n' lettuce I love, wear a beanie,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.

Thou doe not cook bacon wearing a bikini,
thy squash embrac'd art, e'er to enshrine.
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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