Due to a mixture of poor planning on my part and a 3-hour hold-up at the border, I spent a total of 20 hours in Budapest. Removing those I spent asleep leaves me with 14 waking hours in one of the most fascinating cities on earth. I decided to write something of equivalent length to my stay; I felt a line for each of those hours would suffice.
A sonnet is conveniently 14 lines, and ignoring completely the fact I know none of the rules (and would break them all anyway even if I did), here is my attempt.
Two households, diametrically opposed,
In fair Budapest, where we lay our scene,
Have throughout history’s course here become entwined.
Buda and Pest, East and West, revolution, revolution!
The Moguls, Ottomans, Austrians, Germans and Russians:
All have sneered their cold command upon these lands.
And what today remains? Now these banks are bridged
by stony steel hands, old foes are reconciled,
The city is grand; bright lights are turned on its proudest wares.
Nowadays the trouble is not between but within-
Parliament is the largest building in the land
but democracy is out, ‘electoral autocracy’ is in: freedom’s sliding.
There’s a fence at the border and trouble brewing on the hill
Populism, polarisation and post-truth: surely the worst we can do is sit still.
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