...

Tahtsin kirjutada kevadest, aga praegu õhtul enne eksamit pole selleks hea aeg.
Hinge rõhub liiga palju.
Aga annaks luule ikka kätte.
Mis sest, et varem.

Carol Ann Duffy
.
.
.
So imagine me there,
unavailable,
out of this world,
then picture my face in that place
of Eternal Repose,
in the one place you'd think a girl would be safe
from the kind of a man
who follows her round
writing poems,
hovers about
while she reads them,
calls her His Muse,
and once sulked for a night and a day
because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns.
Just picture my face
when I heard -
Ye Gods -
a familiar knock-knock-knock at Death's door.
.
.
.

In fact, girls, I'd rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers,
usually male,
and what you doubtless know of my tale
is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears.
Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years.
Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers.

The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.
.
.
.

Katkend luuletusest "Eurydice"
(kuidas asi Hadese riigis tegelikult oli)
kogumik "The World's Wife" (väga tore üleüldse)