On Poetry and Culture Shock

Dorothy Parker

If you thought yesterday's poem was to sickly sweet, my apologies. Here you have something small by Dorothy Parker. You need to be familiar with this (scroll down to poem 3) to understand it.

From a letter from Lesbia 

...So praise the gods, Catullus is away!
And let me tend you this advice, my dear:
Take any lover that you will, or may,
Except a poet. All of them are queer.

It's just the same -a quarrel or a kiss
is but a  tune to play upon his pipe.
He's always hymning that or wailing this;
myself, I much prefer the business type.

That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died, -
(Oh most unpleasant, gloomy, tedious words!)
I called sweet, and made believe I cried:
The stupid fool! I've alwayd hated birds.

De una carta de Lesbia 

¡Alabados sean los dioses, Cátulo se fue!
 Y déjame darte un consejo, querida:
Ten los amante que quieras o puedas,
menos poetas. Son bichos raros.

Siempre es igual -una pelea, un beso
no es más que  una canción para la flauta.
Siempre está cantando tal o cual cosa;
yo siempre prefiero hombres de negocios.

Aquello que escribió, cuando se murió el gorrión
(¡qué cosa más horrible y aburrida!)
Dije que era tierno, y que me hizo llorar:
¡Qué hombre imbécil! Odio los pájaros.

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