On Poetry and Culture Shock

Damn you!

Curse your uniqueness.
After you left me,
Each passing face looked like yours.

Maldita seas, por ser distinta.
Desde que te fuiste,
Cada cara que pasa se te parece.

Heh. This one was a tanka, which means it was twice as long. It was an embarrassing mess that no shuffling about of synonyms would mend (desperation in poems, à la Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, is a very poisonous thing). It took me quite a lot of drafting and ruthless criticism from someone else (thanks, Jhoe) to realise that the problem was that the speaker should hate the beloved. No ambiguity there.

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