the sound of your voice
that hint of an accent charms
yet how can I listen
and not have my heart crack
knowing you whisper to another
in the night

While I never drink anything stronger than Moxie, I often go to Dick’s to observe life, a subject in which I have been deeply interested since childhood. This place is down a narrow street near the Brooklyn Bridge; it is one of those places with a twitchy neon sign, a bar which sags here and there, possibly because it was moved in and out of several speakeasies during prohibition, and a grimy window on which are stuck greasy cardboard signs advertising specials, such as “Special Today. Chicken Pot Pie. Bread & Butter. 35C.” There are a large bowl of fresh roasted peanuts and a bottle of mulligan on the bar, and the tile floor is littered with peanut hulls and cigarette ends and bologna rinds from the free lunch. The cook uses olive oil for frying, and he burns a lot of it during the day. On damp days the…

We part,
I go beyond the
endless clouds,
but would I ever let you
out of my heart?

translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson

there’s a stone
a crystal
in my hands
luminous
aglow
I rub it
polish it
hold it
feel the heat
emulating
from this crystal
in my hands
and am warmed
inside
a fire spreading
like magic
from my hands
to my heart

In spring,
You delicately waved your handkerchief.
Were you telling me to go far away?
Or to come back at once?

No, it doesn’t mean anything
And doesn’t amount to anything.
It’s like a flower fallen into the river,
Like a pearl of dew resting on the flower.

Only the shadows comprehend,
Only the wind perceives,
Only the richly colored butterfly startled by a sigh
Keeps flying back over the heart of the flower. . .

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

Why should I always be torn from the desire of my heart?
Yet you have sworn you would be my companion, always beside me;
That you swore by the stars, or by the light of your eyes.
Woman’s words are as light as the doomed leaves whirling in autumn,
Easily swept by the wind, easily drowned by the wave.
If there is still in your heart some feeling of faith toward a lost man,
Add to the promise you made something by way of a deed.
Soon as you can, shake the reins over the manes of your ponies,
Whirl the light car along, swiftly as ever you can,
And wherever she comes, O hills, sink low for her passing,
O be easy to ride, winding roads in the vales!

translated by Rolfe Humphries

The souls of all my dears have flown to the stars.
Thank God there’s no one left for me to lose–
so I am free to cry. This air is made
for the echoing of songs.

A silver willow by the shore
trails to the bright September waters.
My shadow, risen from the past,
glides silently towards me.

Though the branches here are hung with many lyres,
a place has been reserved for mine, it seems.
And now this shower, struck by sunlight,
brings me good news, my cup of consolation.

translated by Stanley Kunitz with Max Hayward