New York, New York! by Shinato-Kawasaki, literature
Literature
New York, New York!
O, New York! Fair city of the fairest
Of the fairer sex, who doth kiss the streets
With honey-sweet feet; thus with a bee’s zest,
These eyes entreat thee for thine urban treats!
Buzz, dancing sight! For thither walks my love!
Whitherward chance I ‘pon she—a flower
Midst rare bloom (tho’ hers be rarer)—O, Jove!
Not them, but grant me her! Or her! Or her!
O, New York! Share thy wealth of fairness,
For suburban bumpkin I am, jealous
Of thy five-borough’d embrace’s wideness
As hold dost thou all that’s held beauteous!
And tho’ pretty she, she, and she may be,
With one heart, sad, ‘lone,
Grant me, heavenly Euterpe,
Light words as set I to verse
Days in miracle immers’d,
Bidding adieu my blue magpie:
Like Delphic daffodil just ripe,
Didst thou spring in wintry clime;
O, with coy bloom but fairness bright,
Thaw’d fruitless times thy shine.
Thus, cometh a poet’s summer:
Endow’d Pygmalion skill,
T’ward thy name’s youth I endeavour’d
With forever pregnant quill.
Yet, like th’harvest’s sickl’d lantern
Rais’d ‘bove tempting fall’s embrace:
From far shade a fickle return,
Whilst hid elsewhere thy true face.
Now, as fleeing Proserpine,
Fixt Fates dicta
A winter of discontent is promis’d
To those who have once tasted balmy bliss:
Governs this e’en the Sun’s timely descent
From lofty Olympus to deep Oceanus,
Curtailing the day’s expanse with his flight—
Lo, what grace! A starry wake trails behind—
If only men could fall so majestic!
But, alas! How callously doth cold near
Like an unwelcome spectre ere Dawn’s break
To be inhal’d in the midst of sweet dreams,
Instilling blood-chilling nightmares that steal
A cheek’s youthful blush and a heart’s gay beat,
For stony gravity sinks frozen soul
Into a man’s bowels—nay, deeper st
O! To what depths this name has plung’d—
Extinguish’d! A flame stolen
By frowning Acheron—
And yet, how its bright remembrance,
Without a moment’s wax or wane,
Shames even proud Phoebus;
Injustice! Unjust injustice
To be once son of Peleus,
Now his mere concubine—
A wench unnam’d, unclean, unlov’d,
And unable t’ satisfy
E’en the most uncouth taste!
O! Flicker not, teasing memory!
Remind me of this name’s past worth—
Spoil me with nostalgia!
But, alas; neither beaten breast
Nor hairs yank’d may restore
Seraphic grace fallen
Beyond Cocytus
And naïve hope,
As cold