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Evariste Galois

A duel, only mist will intervene,
Two men, a line of numbers span between,
The field in which they stand, a complex plane,
Which maths equations set this tragic scene?

Not twenty-one, a headstrong youth in vain,
Would rather give his life than bear a stain,
A thwarted love and challenge made in haste,
A brilliant, yet impulse blighted brain.

Diverse mishaps of fortune interlaced;
Political conspiracy is traced,
Rejections academic, mental blot,
A father who could never be replaced.

Equations may be solvable or not,
Republicans may fall in twisted plot
Solutions may be simple or obscure,
A genius may die by pistol shot.

Poisson, Lacroix; professors who adjure,
His papers are unclear and premature,
Can scarce be blamed they incorrectly found,
A revolutionary immature.

In maths, his rationality was sound,
In bordering reality, unwound,
From rational and real one may abscond,
To meddle in complexities unbound.

Unsolvable are quintics and beyond,
Unsolvable, the academic monde,
Revolts, uprisings satisfy the zeal
The military uniform he donned.

In prison, bile and alcohol congeal,
Annihilation tempts through sharpened steel,
Subdued, dismissed to convalescent home,
Where waits the doctor's daughter, fair, genteel.

Spurned suitors see a world in monochrome,
Hot-headed anger roils in mouthy foam,
A duel sought, the night before he'll write,
Six pages more intense than weighty tome.

A letter scribbled swift by candlelight,
A theory, clarified, distilled, airtight,
The final written words, ‘I have no time',
Before the dawn's mad gentlemanly rite.

[...] Read more

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