Pasternak said that our 'complex' life
would only
be written in prose
not verse and song
But my great master look! there is but
relativity as between verse and prose
and one in to the other transforms
and vice-versa
It be like Einstein's e = mc 2 and
indeed one of its extensions.
I want to read prose that be verse and
song, though not so divided and
arranged formally.
And to have prose sung to me in verse
To lull me in the arms of sleepless
nights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem