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Fritz Leiber

It is not known as a writer of limericks Fritz Leiber, one of the acknowledged masters of science fiction, fantasy and horror. Born in Chicago in 1910 he made his debut before the Second World War, and has since attracted three or maybe four generations of fans with his beautiful prose, his wit and his gripping story, decided to devote himself to any genre. Recently in Collection Urania was published New Moon, one of his most famous novels and exciting, a true classic of science fiction and epic choir. I of course I bought it and to my surprise ... I've got found in a limerick! One

character, Richard Hillary, make it a limerick (dedicated to Edward Lear ) inspired by the sight of a girl a little 'volgarotta view on the bus ... seems to me right back here, but unfortunately the translation has meant that it lost its original metric ...

was a young woman of Devizes
With the thoughts of two sizes: Most
passed through a needle's eye
others were as big as the moon;
the young woman in Devizes.

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Torino

There is an awkward sixteen of Turin
not know how to go on the motorcycle.
So, without haste,
took the bicycle,
until the day we came under a forint ...
that awkward sixteen of Turin.

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Wagner ... Dedicated

With Lillibò that sends me a nice Limerick Marche's blog back to life ... coming soon my other new contributions, along with those of other readers. Let's start!

A musician in Ascoli Piceno
wrote on its own "The Rhinegold".
I told him: "You're late.
He has already written the Rich."
desperation, killed himself with poison.

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Milarepa and Demons

And Milarepa was attacked by demons.

Demons fucking demons, demons all around him. He had arrived as well, there in solitary meditation, which had reached the point where the demons were the front wall, to prevent him from continuing the journey, a path that seemed more and more downhill, always easier now that he was nearing the purity.

destroyed it and dragged him with them, making it swings back and forth because the perception could afford. And he understood what was still vulnerable, as far from its realization. He pledged to fight them now, but he defeated more than it appeared, to the point that he finally was able to understand that nothing in reality were just an illusion. A suspect who had right away. Each time a new demon threatened him, but he was getting the same question, the same damn question:

How can I be sure that this is not real? As the others were not real, how can I be sure that this is an illusion?

and fights, chafing and tearing more and more.

That question, the damn question, was the root of all demons.