"Asimov, Isaac - Nine Tomorrows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

Won't you give me just a notion
Of that shrewdly pepped-up potion
Out of which emerge your plots?
That wild secret bubbly mixture
That has made you such a fixture
In most favored s. f. spotsЧ

Now, Dr. A., Don't go awayЧ
Oh, Dr. A.Ч

Oh, Dr. AЧ
REJECTION SLIPS

a Ц Learned

Dear Asimov, all mental laws
Prove orthodoxy has its flaws.
Consider that eclectic clause
In Kant's philosophy that gnaws
With ceaseless anti-logic jaws
At all outworn and useless saws
That stick in modern mutant craws.
So here's your tale (with faint applause).
The words above show ample cause.

b Ц Gruff

Dear Ike, I was prepared
(And, boy, I really cared)
To swallow almost anything you wrote.
But, Ike, you're just plain shot,
Your writing's gone to pot,
There's nothing left but hack and mental bloat.
Take back this piece of junk;
It smelled; it reeked; it stunk;
Just glancing through it once was deadly rough.
But Ike, boy, by and by,
Just try another try. I need some yarns and, kid, I love your stuff.

c - Kindly

Dear Isaac, friend of mine,
I thought your tale was fine.
Just frightful-
Ly delightful
And with merits all a-shine.
It meant a quite full
Night, full,
Friend, of tension
Then relief