L'Etranger - Poem by Irene Pang
This poem is written as a reflection on Albert Camus' tour-de-force novel, L'etranger (the Stranger) . However, instead of applying Albert Camus' writing style, I attempted to write like Shakespeare, using his Elizabethan English, which I eventually realized, ain't easy at all.
Maman died today,
or perhaps, yest'day.
Thou walk'st under the yellow leaves,
see'st the polished hearse with no griefs,
thinking of none but the weather,
while in casket laid thy mother.
Then sunset fadeth in the west,
and night breeze embarketh on quest.
Thou perceivest the air be calm,
so touchest thy face with thy palm.
Raptured with soothing emotions,
thou remain'st still without motions.
Then it occurreth to thee slow,
that the fires of life still glow.
Though thy Maman has left with Ange,
nothing really, say'st thee, has changed.
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