It was early last December, As near as I remember, I was walking down the street in tipsy pride; No one was I disturbing As I lay down by the curbing, And a pig came up and lay down by my side. As I lay there in the gutter Thinking thoughts I shall not utter, A lady passing by was…
The King of China’s daughter, She never would love me Though I hung my cap and bells upon Her nutmeg tree. For oranges and lemons, The stars in bright blue air, (I stole them long ago, my dear) Were dangling there. The Moon did give me silver pence, The sun did give me gold, And both together softly blew And…
This crab – where does it come from? From Tsuruga, a hundred towns away. Creeping sideways, how far did it crawl? It hurried to Ichiji Isle, to the Isle of Beauty. The dabchick plunges, Breathless and gulping: I plunged hurriedly Up and down the slopes Of the Sasanami Way. The maiden I met with On the Kohata Road – Seen from…
Horse – lame, Sword – rusty. Who – he? Crowd’s boss. A step – an hour, A sight – an age, Eyes – down. People – there: Foe. – Friend. Thorn. – Laurel. All – dreams . . . He. – Horse. Horse – lame Sword – rusty. Cloak – old. Back – straight. 1921. Translation by Vladimir Markov and Merrill…
Boll-weevil’s coming, and the winter’s cold, Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old, And cotton, scarce as any southern snow, Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow, Failed in its function as the autumn rake; Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take All water from the streams; dead birds were found In wells a hundred feet below the…
A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket – And you listening. A spider’s web, tense for the dew’s touch. A pail lifted, still and brimming – mirror To tempt a first star to a tremor. Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm wreaths of breath…
What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet — A sage that is but kith and kin With the comedian Capuchin? Believe me rather that am wise In disregard of the divine, A glory kindles in those eyes, Trembles to starlight. Mine, O mine!…
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, — And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy? Published 1824.
Up high, the flies are playing, And frolicking, and swaying. The frog thinks: Dance! I know You’ll end up here below. Es machen sich die Fliegen / Ein luftig Tanzvergnügen. / Der Frosch, der denkt: Nur munter! / Ihr kommt schon noch herunter! Circa 1870. Translation by Gabriele Kahn.
my sweet old etcetera aunt lucy during the recent war could and what is more did tell you just what everybody was fighting for, my sister isabel created hundreds (and hundreds)of socks not to mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers etcetera wristers etcetera, my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about…
