In recent posts I’ve translated my epic about the Eternal Jew back to standard English prose. Here’s an example of the real stuff, which is to say, poetry in New English (metaEnglish).

The setting: the Eternal Jew and his wife have tired of Prague, and have decided to return to Spain. They keep a careful journal of the route, a journal they hope to sell to traders who want to take advantage of the new markets developing in the interior of Europe….

Me, I keepen fule akkounts
A the way, with skechez, noets, an maps
A streets, bildenz, lanmarks, plants,
Ennee notabbel toppollujjeez,
An arroez showen the sunz path.
No dowt Ittalyen traderz wil fien
Theze sheets a rezors an werth sum trade.

Kum owten the Alps tu San Meeshel*             * San Michele, Italy
Like leevz blowen in a ottem skwal
Rite pas Vennes an thru the hilz
An almoes intu the brinee dreenk
Down on Zhennovahz* bussellee doks,            * Genoa
Them pielz with ferz an barrelz a sawlt
An pitteyes weepenz a slaevz a-chaend.
Wun a theze galleez, fer the rite prise,
Wil shorlee take us tu Mulluggah*.                    * Malaga

I set abbow tryen a hawk my maps,
But I kwik-like seen my mists a chans:
     "I sale boet; I doen drive kart."
     or "If I kant sale thaer, I doen go."
     or "Thats the kien a trubbellee werk
     "Venneeshenz like, not Zhennovese,
     "A duket a werk an a denar a pay."
     or "Prog? Iz that sum kien a fish?"
     or "I aen got no yuse fer Ju."
Fienlee sumwun taeks a peek
In my foleyo a skechen maps.
     "Kum with me. I knoez a man...."