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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse these days inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

20150525

Sonnet

by Pietro Bembo,
translated by Lorna de’ Lucchi

Thou too then, Brother, in the tide of spring 
Dying, hast left me solitary here 
Whence life, before so bright and glad a thing, 
Is shadowed over with dismay and fear; 
Justice it would have been and passionate 
Desire of mine that hitherwards the dart 
Firstly had sped, that as I was not late 
In coming, so I might betimes depart. 
   Then I would not have known such deep despair, 
Nor seen myself’s best portion borne away, 
Nor been subjected to such misery; 
But now, since I before thee might not fare, 
God grant, Who loveth equity, I may 
Be liberated soon and follow thee.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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