Jul 2011
I GO SOLO! And if it must be spent,
Then allow it being in the concrete
Of murky buildings; - climb under the high street,
Eye up some greenery – the canal bent,
Its colourful turns – from Lock to Regents,
Can seem a long ting: when its just my feet
Distant street lights; No battery to tweet
Stop by Zoo listen to animals intent.
Boy! I'm reaching these scenes frequent; jack jones
And the time I spent rhyming to myself,
Those words are images of thoughts I felt,
the sickest wickedest is not alone
Almost as good as getting a black belt
When two MC's spit free's to release I'm home.
Then allow it being in the concrete
Of murky buildings; - climb under the high street,
Eye up some greenery – the canal bent,
Its colourful turns – from Lock to Regents,
Can seem a long ting: when its just my feet
Distant street lights; No battery to tweet
Stop by Zoo listen to animals intent.
Boy! I'm reaching these scenes frequent; jack jones
And the time I spent rhyming to myself,
Those words are images of thoughts I felt,
the sickest wickedest is not alone
Almost as good as getting a black belt
When two MC's spit free's to release I'm home.
This is a translation of John Keats - TO SOLITUDE
O SOLITUDE! If I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; - climb with me the steep,
Nature's Observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes - its rivers crystal swell,
May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilioned; where the Deer's swift leap
Startles the wild Bee from the Fox-glove bell.
Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee;
But the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
O SOLITUDE! If I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; - climb with me the steep,
Nature's Observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes - its rivers crystal swell,
May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilioned; where the Deer's swift leap
Startles the wild Bee from the Fox-glove bell.
Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee;
But the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
