the whirling
of a fan
the hiss
of a candle
the beating
of a heart
this world
familiar
changed
a corner
turned
a light
in a window
not noticed
before
a footstep
on gravel
a scent
in the air
even the cat
senses shifting
this night
Month: June 2014
An Argument by Thomas Moore
I’ve oft been told by learned friars,
That wishing and the crime are one,
And Heaven punishes desires
As much as if the deed were done.
If wishing damns us, you and I
Are damned to all our heart’s content;
Come, then, at least we may enjoy
Some pleasure for our punishment!
A Drinking Song by W.B. Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
I may have posted this before but feel the urge to post it once again.
the surprise: for the rabbit Zaychik
didn’t expect it
was not prepared
but 4 hours later
was enchanted
no rap
no horror films
the cat stays
lots of fish
a bottle of wine
coffee and cheese cake
and the scooter
there you go
in baseball jargon
a homerun
what a surprise
first time up
at bat
On Yellow-Crane Tower, Farewell to Meng Hao-jan Who’s Leaving for Yang-chou by Li Po
From Yellow-Crane Tower, my old friend leaves the west.
Downstream to Yang-chou, late spring a haze of blossoms,
distant glints of lone sail vanish into emerald-green air:
nothing left but a river flowing on the borders of heaven.
translated by David Hinton
the promise
in the glint
of your eyes
the hint
of a smile
on those full lips
one hand caressing
your hair
the other firmly placed
on a hip
the tilt of your shoulders
almost a shrug
there
here
the promise
of things to come
from Gazing at the Thatch-Hut Mountain Waterfall by Li Po
Here, after wandering among these renowned
mountains, the heart grows rich with idleness.
Why talk of cleansing elixirs of immortality?
Here, the world’s dust rinsed from my face,
I’ll stay close to what I’ve always loved,
content to leave that peopled world forever.
translated by David Hinton
from The Golestan by Sa’di
I held in my hand a perfumed piece of clay
that came to me from a beloved’s hand.
I asked it, “Are you musk or ambergris?
Like fine wine, your smell intoxicates me.”
“I was,” it said, “a loathsome lump of clay
till someone set me down beside a rose.
Then my companion’s scent seeped into me.
Otherwise, I am only the earth I am.”
courtesy of my friend Richard Newman
The River Han by Tu Mu
Rich and full, all surging swells and white gulls in flight,
it flows springtime deep, its green a crystalline dye for robes.
Going south and coming back north, you grow older, older.
Late light lingers, farewell to a fishing boat bound for home.
translated by David Hinton
Benjamin Franklin on money spent on war
What vast additions to the convenience and comforts of living might Mankind have acquired if the money spent in wars had been employed in public utility.
