I saw Charles Dickens sitting with Ed Poe.
Both telling lies mostly, as you might guess.
Poe spoke of some dim Thule, he would know.
Dickens seemed miles away, I must confess.
He said his Copperfield funds were a bust.
Poe noted his rude Raven had flown away.
I even tried an Oliver Twist, just
Because, Dickens moaned. Science seeks to prey,
Poe remarked, like a Vulture on our soul!
Perhaps a Christmas Carol is the key,
Dickens chimed! Poe's dull gaze did not console,
I would choose a Kingdom by the Sea!
And still, they are sitting there by the door,
Each one's fevered mind teeming evermore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem