Oh, I know :
It's nothing after all
But a prosaic clutter:
Shakespeare, in a hurry ,
Stole the plot of
Romeo andJuliet
From a mediocre narrative poem
Written in fourteeners by Arthur Brooke .
And I know :
He probably lifted at least part of the plot
Of
As
You Like It
From an English translation of an Italian novella
By Robert Greene ,
Who bad-mourhed the young Shakespeare
For stealing scenes from his betters,
As Greene, defeated and debt-ridden ,
Lay whining penances
On his own dirty death -bed .
I know :
The citizens of Verona once called
Their ruler a crazy dog .
I know :
The heavens blossoming above this ravishing
And beautiful city blackened with wings
Of bombing planes ,
And children scampering like mice
Into the cracks of the vast marble Arena,
All hell broken loose .
Oh , I know
All 1'm giving you is a cheap, chintzy
Picture postcard, a gross and messy imitation
Of a poet 's dream of something hopeless
That didn't have a chance in this world .
What chance do we have?
We are nothing but a poet's dream
Of lovers who chose
to
live .
Not a chance .
