Iím simmering with unexploded anger, Iím ticking like a ton of TNT. The Muse dropped by the other night Ė but dang íer! She bolted. Didnít even stay for tea! I honestly canít blame her for departing, She was within her right to walk away. Imagine that: the Muse in my apartment, Alone at night! What would the neighbors say? Iím devastated, and my soul is barren. I wasnít even worth a one-night stand! And yet she hung out gladly with Lord Byron. With Shakespeare she stayed for weeks on end. I hurried to my desk, for greatness famished: ďHere comes an epic poem, nothing less!Ē But she was gone, my inspiration vanished, With twenty dollars Ė for a cab, I guess. I pace around the house, hot and bothered. Fine! I forgive her, even though itís tough. She went away. She left me for another. My company just wasnít good enough. A giant cake with candles, meant to dazzle, Has crumbled, and Iím down with the blues. My so-called friends, meanwhile, have found and guzzled V.S.O.P. intended for the Muse! Erasing years, like people on the black list, My lifeís monotonous. I yawn and whine. She isnít coming back. How bloody tactless! And yet she left me two amazing lines. Two perfect lines! No poet ranks above me! Now fame and fortune (are) sure to come my way! Two perfect lines: ďThou art so temperate and lovely! ďShall I compare thee to a summerís day?Ē        
© Mika Tubinshlak. Translation, ?
© Vadim Astrakhan. Performance, 2017