Obligatory Blank Verse Blog Week post

(Er, Blank Verse what? Quod vide, here and here.)

The week containing April twenty-third
Has come and almost gone -- for here it is
Already Thursday -- and I haven't yet
Composed an entry in iambic lines.
What happened to the posts of yesteryear?
I think the answer is I've been too slammed
With other festival observances.
-- Who scheduled Pesach for so late this year??

Last night I did three loads of laundry, swept
And dusted, cleaned the bathroom, made the bed,
And got a jump on packing up chametz.
Tonight we finish shopping for the seder
(Though 14 pounds of brisket was a start;
And where can I buy Sabra in this town?),
Pick lonebear up at 9:07 sharp
From Logan, then head back to Porter Square
To store up sushi 'gainst the coming week
When rice and soy will be prohibited.
(Tomorrow night, conversely, after shul,
The plan is for a run to Mary Chung's...
Say 8:15, for those who want to come!)

And then, a meme: The Singing Babelfish

Through AltaVista. Can you guess the song?
(It took some iterations to achieve
A piece of poetry that pleased my ear.
This, simply, went to Japanese and back.)
Comments are public; read them as you wish.

Image of your eye of the coffeehouse and it is blue, the empty, it comes in the distance due to the sort of morning of the silent sunrise. But the night is the cathedral where we verified sign. We others mutual now are associated as a portion of the entire design. Well, me the way I who permit the fact that it does not fall asleep, in you it hears me, and with heat do not do the cirque and the baby you grasp. The water and its earring it possesses the hand of the thing where the rain falls with your ear. Intelligence of your surface denies the number of your years. The finger of the potter and you being strange, the disordered idiot of simple rule, the story which アレンジャー is laughed.