How I spent my morning:

[featherynscale]

William Blake's "Tyger", in words of four letters or less:

Big cat, big cat, who is on fire
In the wood in dark so dire
What hand or eye that will not die
Did make the form we fear to spy?

In what far off sea or sky
Did burn the fire of your eye?
What wing bore him up to sol?
With what hand dare he take the coal?

And what wide back, what art, what goal?
Did form the thew that held your soul?
And when thy soul did move in thee
What hand or foot made this to be?

What did beat, and what did bind?
In what oven was thy mind?
What held thy form, and what dire hold
Did grip that fear and make so bold?

And when each star did toss his dart
And wept as if the sky did part
Did he grin, his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Big cat, big cat, who is on fire
In the wood in dark so dire
What hand or eye that will not die
Did make the form we fear to spy?

Comments

I have got to try this!!!

[(Anonymous)]

That is AWESOME! ROFLMAO!

Ok, my turn...

Goethe's Erlkoenig, translated into English using words of four letters or less.

Who is it does ride when the day is done?
It is a dad with his son.
He has the boy hale in his arm,
To hold him safe, to keep him warm.

My son, why does your face turn so grey?
Dad do you see the elf king that way?
The king of elves who rules over this bog?
My son, it's just a wisp of fog.

You dear boy, come away with me.
I've a fun game to play with thee.
Iris and lily now cover the sand
Mom's got some gold to put in your hand

Dad, Dad, and can you not hear
What the elf king has sung soft in my ear?
Be calm, stay calm, my boy
The wind can play a dry leaf like a toy.

My dear boy, will you go with me?
My girl does wait for you, you see.
She will spin in the dark in her gown of gray,
And will leap and sing for you to stay.

Dad, Dad, do you see to the west
The elf girl in her soft gray vest?
My son, my son, I see it true
But I see only an oak tree in view.

I love you, I ache for your soft form
And if you won't come, then I'll have to do harm.
Dad! Dad! His grip is so cold!
The elf king has hurt me with his hold!

The dad gives a kick to make the bay fly
The boy in his arms lets out a cry
He gets to the farm, gets the man out of bed
In his arms the boy lay dead.

--Guess who...

[hobbitblue.livejournal.com]

Me impressed, very.