Five centimeters tall, the Prince of the Cosmos
Stands at the base of his beautiful Katamari.
With both hands, he presses firmly so it rolls
So gracefully over our cluttered planet.
Like a snowball it grows only larger,
With each successive passing grabbing more.
Stands at the base of his beautiful Katamari.
With both hands, he presses firmly so it rolls
So gracefully over our cluttered planet.
Like a snowball it grows only larger,
With each successive passing grabbing more.
And with each pretty star, his father wants more.
He gets what he wants, the King of the Cosmos,
For in power and stature he is the larger.
“Little Prince, keep your hands on the Katamari.
Never leave that strange prison, that alien planet.”
And so, endlessly he rolls.
He gets what he wants, the King of the Cosmos,
For in power and stature he is the larger.
“Little Prince, keep your hands on the Katamari.
Never leave that strange prison, that alien planet.”
And so, endlessly he rolls.
And so skillfully he rolls,
Finding all that was asked and even more,
Grabbing every last daikon on the planet.
With a laugh, the King launches it into Cosmos,
and always it will burn bright, this Katamari,
Until the Prince makes another one larger.
Finding all that was asked and even more,
Grabbing every last daikon on the planet.
With a laugh, the King launches it into Cosmos,
and always it will burn bright, this Katamari,
Until the Prince makes another one larger.
And now his is magnificently larger.
Out of the house and through the city, it rolls.
Not the same as before, this massive Katamari
Grabs cars and people, and it towers even more.
Still wondrously pushed by our Prince of the Cosmos,
But now only screams can escape our planet.
Out of the house and through the city, it rolls.
Not the same as before, this massive Katamari
Grabs cars and people, and it towers even more.
Still wondrously pushed by our Prince of the Cosmos,
But now only screams can escape our planet.
Soon the mass itself resembles a planet;
The chaos and wreckage grow larger.
Ceaseless death for a starlit Cosmos.
Lonelier he grows, yet still he rolls
For he cannot stop until there’s no more
And all of existence is a Katamari.
The chaos and wreckage grow larger.
Ceaseless death for a starlit Cosmos.
Lonelier he grows, yet still he rolls
For he cannot stop until there’s no more
And all of existence is a Katamari.
Cities and clouds and landmasses for a Katamari;
A bare and lonely and watery planet.
At a kilometer in height, it grows no more.
His King demanded a moon but our Prince made it larger
Now the only thing left, it rolls
In a more beautiful and more empty Cosmos.
A bare and lonely and watery planet.
At a kilometer in height, it grows no more.
His King demanded a moon but our Prince made it larger
Now the only thing left, it rolls
In a more beautiful and more empty Cosmos.
The Little Prince of the Cosmos knows only the Katamari
Even now he rolls on an empty planet
Hoping to be larger, hoping to be more.
The revisions I made were very slight, improvements in word choice or occasionally punctuation. Ultimately, I liked my choices for end words, so I wasn't willing to change that, and barring that sort of change, there wasn't much to do. With a sestina, it seems to be all or nothing. Even if this is hardly my best work, I do like the concept. I took a joyous, colorful Japanese PS2 game and turned it into a melancholy tale of a lonely son forced into horrible acts by his abusive father. Its sad and funny for those familiar with the source material. Since I don't use poetic forms like this usually, I had to pick a subject matter which could liven the structure. My sort of poetry would not be suited to this rigid structure, instead I wanted something playful and fun to contrast the form. Though they are modest, I am happy with the results.
Even now he rolls on an empty planet
Hoping to be larger, hoping to be more.
The revisions I made were very slight, improvements in word choice or occasionally punctuation. Ultimately, I liked my choices for end words, so I wasn't willing to change that, and barring that sort of change, there wasn't much to do. With a sestina, it seems to be all or nothing. Even if this is hardly my best work, I do like the concept. I took a joyous, colorful Japanese PS2 game and turned it into a melancholy tale of a lonely son forced into horrible acts by his abusive father. Its sad and funny for those familiar with the source material. Since I don't use poetic forms like this usually, I had to pick a subject matter which could liven the structure. My sort of poetry would not be suited to this rigid structure, instead I wanted something playful and fun to contrast the form. Though they are modest, I am happy with the results.
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