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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471590" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Making of a Prince II: A King with Too Many Names</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eyes of adamantine admiration, <br>Eyes of green jealousy, <br>And like my own of enigma; <br>Skin of robust splendor, <br>Skin of soigné plutocracy, <br>And like my own of harsh grating; <br>He had a extensive collection<br>Of these myriad visions</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brands and names, <br>Epitaphs and banners…<br>He had too much already<br>And I cannot endow him<br>Of a gift, of a name, <br>But in spite of the perplexity<br>Of his multitude, I knew him<br>And the core of his magnitude</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A soul, a heart, a thousand words, <br>An assuaging fix, a destructive machinism, <br>Triumphs and defeat; <br>Overwhelming his names—<br>He was a king, he was a king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was a brittle glass of a king<br>Capable of holding many dishabille<br>Possessing ice and fire, fire and ice, <br>For candid tears and for affections<br>And as he meander in this shriveled globe<br>In the superfluity of his winding paths<br>The sun casts his diadem loftily<br>And the glass that his vessel was<br>Spewed a vexing prism in prance<br>Of its thousand shades and inflections<br>And the affliction was upon him</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This king with many a name<br>Displays his scars too flagrantly<br>For it was more noble, as he believed, <br>Than his unutterable bank of grandiosity<br>And perhaps, in his vain rummaging<br>In myself: a mirror bijou of slivers<br>He saw himself, in a dour vantage, <br>His eviscerations, and faults, and errs -<br>A little coy prince wilted from a dream</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under the sun's duress, in the fear's chest<br>Juxtaposed the graves we built and exhumed: <br>We talked of riddles, <br>Gambled with death and life, <br>Shuffled reveries, <br>Wrote garish words<br>And slurring veracity, <br>Survived genocides<br>And treacle poisons—<br>In his clandestine dominion<br>Deeper than his clad loin<br>I had rubbed myself luster<br>And before I depart<br>I saw what he did: <br>A coy little prince</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471590" data-title="The Making of a Prince II: A King with Too Many Names de Norman Santos" data-description="Eyes of adamantine admiration, 
Eyes of green jealousy, 
And like my own of enigma; 
Skin of robust splendor, 
Skin of soigné plutocracy, 
And like my own of harsh grating; 
He had a extensive collection
Of these myriad visions

Brands and names,..."></div>
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