Rhyme Royal on Goya’s “El Sueno De La Razen Produce Monstrues.”

Head rested on books,

a woman falls asleep,

and judging by her looks

and the posture of her feet

she’s fallen into a dream.

Table corner in her side,

and pen-pinched elbows, she cries.

Vanity of thought

has made her self-deceived,

when all she ever sought,

was a philosophy well received.

All the color from her mind is gone:

black and white after the dawn.

Impossible monsters sweep down to feed—

those flashing images of horror and pride,

the result of a colorless dream

on a well-trained mind

that is pent up from reading lines,

driven mad by monsters, and dark faces—

the result of imagination pent up in cages.

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