Though childhood’s days were past and gone, More innocent no child could be; Though grace in every feature shone, Her maiden heart was fancy free. A few more months, or haply days, And Love would blossom,—so we thought, As lifts in April’s genial rays The rose its clusters richly wrought. But God had destined otherwise, And so she gently…
I’ll tell you how the Sun rose – A Ribbon at a time – The steeples swam in Amethyst The news, like Squirrels, ran – The Hills untied their Bonnets – The Bobolinks – begun – Then I said softly to myself – ‘That must have been the Sun!’ But how he set – I know not – There seemed…
Above a neck that emerges stiffly from a ruff starched likewise, it is a beardless cold-creamed face, with the air of a hydrocephalic asparagus. The eyes are drowned in the opium of universal indulgence, the clown’s mouth bewitches like a peculiar geranium. Mouth which goes from the unbunged hole, glacially hilarious, to the transcendental elusiveness of the Mona Lisa’s empty…
with a man who is merely a male i look beyond the sea osu de aru dake no otoko to mite iru oki 1987. Translation by Makoto Ueda.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thr’ all its regions A dog starvd at…
A swarthy young boy lolled down pathways By himself at the edge of the lake. For a hundred long years we have cherished The slight rustle his far footsteps make. The thick, prickly fir-needles pile up Above the low stumps of each tree… Here’s his three-cornered hat and a dog-eared Volume of verse by Parny. 1911. Translation by Vladimir Markov…
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Roumania. 1925.
One had Aglaya by attraction Of raven curls and martial stance, One for his money (no objection), A third because he was from France, Cleon by dint of being clever, Damis for tender songs galore; But, my Aglaya, say, whatever Did your own husband have you for? 1822. Translation by Walter Arndt.
The cock crows But no queen rises. The hair of my blonde Is dazzling, As the spittle of cows Threading the wind. Ho! Ho! But ki-ki-ri-ki Brings no rou-cou, No rou-cou-cou. But no queen comes In slipper green. 1918.
