Читать книгу #Sonnets - Lucien Young - Страница 13

How shall I marshal fourteen lines to tell

Thee what, in teenage years, thy dope rhymes meant?

No other rapper in thy bourn may dwell,

For, Eminem, thou art preeminent!

I learned thy LPs’ sickest flows by heart,

Then did, in hope to more adore thee, delve

Into thy diss tracks’ cruel, exquisite art

And thy collaborations with D12.

But as I aged, so came I to revile

The homophobic slurs that thou wouldst level

And winced to think the Shakespeare of 8 Mile

Misogynist — a pinched, peroxide devil!

Yet still will I, for all my earthly span,

On thee obsess as though my name were Stan.