there I was
thinking the worst
that could happen happened
and then that other shoe
did you know what
right on you know where
Month: May 2014
To Keep Busy by Orhan Veli Kanık
The beautiful women thought
The love poems I wrote
Were about them.
And I always suffered
Knowing that I wrote them
To keep busy.
translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat
from an untitled poem by Li Shang-yin
Never let your heart open with the spring flowers:
One inch of love is an inch of ashes.
translated by A.C. Graham
from Reading the Poetry of Meng Chiao by Su Tung-p’o
Man’s life is like morning dew,
a flame eating up the oil night by night.
Why should I strain my ears
listening to the squeaks of this autumn insect?
Better lay aside the book
and drink my cup of jade-white wine.
translated by Burton Watson
tell me about it
okay I know
what he said
or didn’t say
what she did
or didn’t do
what goes on
behind that closed door
this is not exactly foreign territory
here
or there
that you are speaking of
and though I sympathize
it’s not something new
for you,
or me
for anyone
but go ahead anyway
tell me about it
then afterwards
I’ll tell you
untitled tanka on sadness from Saigyo
in a mountain village
at autumn’s end–
that’s when you learn
what sadness means
in the blast of the wintry wind
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
these words I write
these words I write
in my illegible scrawl
on wisps of clouds
scribbled on the wind
float by in the air
a message to read
a prayer to answer
To Tzu-chih: among the “Flowers” by Li Shang-yin
The light on the pool suddenly hides behind the wall,
Mingled scents of flowers invade the room.
On the edge of the screen, powder smeared by the butterfly:
On the lacquered window the yellow print of the bee.
Push those state papers across to the clerks,
There’s a maid for every honest civil servant.
Let’s ride abreast and hear each other’s poems.
What’s so urgent about this business you waste your heart on?
translated by A.C.Graham
from Peonies by Li Shang-yin
I who was given in a dream the brush of many colours
Wish to write on petals a message to the clouds of morning.
translated by A.C. Graham
along the shore
boats drift by on the sea
cats scamper among the rocks
sharpshooters pop balloons
cries on simit in the air
a paper cup of cay
cotton candy on a stick
it’s Saturday in Kadiköy
Istanbul along the shore
Leonard Durso 