The Golden Gate

To make a start more swift than weighty,
Hail Muse. Dear Reader, once upon
A time, say circa 1980,
There lived a man. His name was John.
Successful in his field though only
Twenty-six, respected, lonely,
One evening as he walked across
Golden Gate Park, the ill-judged toss
Of a red frisbee almost brained him.
He thought, «If I died, who’d be sad?
Who’d weep? Who’d gloat? Who would be glad?
Would anybody?» As it pained him,
He turned from this dispiriting theme
To ruminations less extreme.


-Vikram Seth, início do romance feito na estrofe Onegin.