This is Mona Lisa in poem form:
The whip is war
that easily comes
framing a wild mountain.
Hello, you in the closet,
singing—posing carved peaks
of sound understanding.
Upon a kitchen altar
visit a prostitute—
an ugly woman saint—
lonesome mountain valley,
your treasury: a dumb corpse and
funeral car, idle choke open.
exactly what you would call nervous.
Well, do not suggest recalcitrance
those who donated sad.
The smell of a rugged frame
strikes cement block once.
Cape. Cylinder. Cry.
The poem is a result of the following circuitous method:
- Announce a competition where the goal is to write a program that can encode and decode images that fit in a 140-character tweet.
- Create an algorithm that reduces an image to a bunch of vectors and then encodes the result in a sequence of Chinese characters, in order to make room for more data.
- Run the algorithm on a jpg of the Mona Lisa.
- Run the resulting Chinese characters through Google Translate.
- Have a commenter freely interpret the resulting Chinese-to-English translation, with lots of poetic license.
The best thing about this, or worst, depending on your perspective, is that the resulting poem is as meaningful as most poetry, if not more.
If you interpret this poem, I’m sure you can find the plot of Dan Brown’s next book.Jul 17, 2009