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A sonnet might look dinky, but it was somehow big enough to accommodate love, war, death, and O.J. Simpson. You could fit the whole world in there if you shoved hard enough.
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sonnets
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Anne Fadiman |
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Sous les ifs noirs qui les abritent, Les hiboux se tiennent ranges, Ainsi que des dieux etrangers, Dardant leur oeil rouge. Ils meditent. Sans remuer ils se tiendront Jusqu'a l'heure melancolique Ou, poussant le soleil oblique, Les tenebres s'etabliront. Leur attitude au sage enseigne Qu'il faut en ce monde qu'il craigne Le tumulte et le mouvement, L'homme ivre d'une ombre qui passe Porte toujours le chatiment D'avoir voulu changer de place.
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poems
sonnets
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Charles Baudelaire |
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"Reading your sonnets?" asked Orphu. Mahnmut closed the book. "How'd you know? Have you taken up telepathy now that you've lost your eyes?" "Not yet," rumbled the Ionian. Orphu's great crab shell was lashed to the deck ten meters from where Mahnmut sat near the bow. "Some of your silences are more literary than others, is all."
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silence
sonnets
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Dan Simmons |