Francisco Goya, The Colossus /
Benjamin Rozonoyer
Pestilence, cows, carnage,
Napoleon, white with rage;
even if he were enlarged,
could hardly fill up a page.
O Spain, betrayed and helpless!
You might still be shocked to your senses —
like a sick man, who twists, and tosses,
and wakens to the Colossus.
All poetry: Copyright 2025 by Benjamin Rozonoyer. All rights reserved.