Thursday, 8 August 2013

More Nabokov

My picture book was at an early age
The painted parchment papering our cage:
Mauve rings around the moon, blood orange sun;
Twinned iris; and that rare phenomenon
The iridule- when, beautiful and strange,
In a bright sky above a mountain range
One opal cloudlet in an oval form
Reflects the rainbow of a thunderstorm
Which in a distant valley has been staged-
For we are most artistically caged.

-Nabokov, Pale Fire

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