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Tuesday, May 5, 2020

Pinot from Pomeroy's

Leo McKern portrays Rumpole the brief.
Of thespians, Leo’s Commander-in-Chief.
His treatments show Horace no plush toy from Steiff.
Yet, sadly, he lacks his C. K. Scott Moncrieff
to decipher his tales for the Mont Blanc massif,
perhaps with a "lost on the ice" leitmotif.
All erstwhile attempts have, en fin, come to grief,
as unfulfill'd readers exclaim, “Where’s the beef…?”

Nevertheless, it’s my fervent belief --
and, I'm quick to admit, this all comes as relief –
that soon shall arrive gli autor’ with a sheaf
of splendid translations which turn a new leaf
in the book of the spread of the Rumpole debrief.
(A further admission: I wholly would lief
if these versions be render'd by Ciaran O’Keeffe.  
Consider my verses your aperitif.)

Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita Anagramaniacal Opening Lines

Lolita, light of my life...  ...might fail to yell "Foil!"...  ...or elect to yell "Lock'd!" -- she's just that ...