Sunday, November 4, 2012

Quote Sunday

So this week I read The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth for English class. It's a novel written in verse. Not just any verse. Puskinian sonnets. Which makes it kinda super awesome. So for the first twelve chapters it's cool, because it's a novel written in verse, but it's not phenomenal. Then comes chapter 13, the last chapter in the book. And all of a sudden it's this really incredible book that makes you weep and is beautiful and meaningful and lovely. So here's my favorite sonnet in the whole book:

13.4

Patron of your beloved city,
O San Francisco, saint of love.
Co-sufferer in searing pity
Of all our griefs, whom from above
Birds would alight on, singing, feeding
Within your hands - hands pierced and bleeding
With Christ's own signs - who, stigmatized
As dupe and clown, apostrophized
The sun in its white blistering starkness
As brother, and the blistered moon
As sister, and who, blind at noon.
Opened your heart and sang in darkness -
And where it was, sowed light, look down.
Solace the sorrows of your town.


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Day 4: Today I am grateful for days to sleep in.  

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