Sometimes a man stands up during supper
and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking,
because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.
And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead.
And another man, who remains inside his own house,
dies there, inside the dishes and in the glasses,
so that his children have to go far out into the world
toward that same church, which he forgot.
translated by Robert Bly
some day someone will
once again write poetry
dedicate a song
their book to me and next time
I won’t let her slip away
Her jade-white staircase is cold with dew;
Her silk soles are wet, she lingered there so long. . .
Behind her closed casement, why is she still waiting,
Watching through its crystal pane the glow of the autumn moon?
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
She was pure and white, resembling the sun as it rises.
All other women were merely stars!
Love for her has made my heart fly off its permanent branch,
And after stopping a while, it is still hovering in the air!
adapted from the translation by A.R. Nykl by Robert Bly
Lord, you called to me,
And I did only answer thee
With words slow and sleepy:
“Wait a while! Wait a little!”
But while and while have no end,
And wait a little is a long road.
a lone singer
with guitar
serenades the diners
who do not listen
with Time After Time
Just The Way You Are
his voice clear
the guitar underscoring
his phrasing
in competition with
large screens
of a football match
and loud conversations
silverware tinkling
glasses clinking
he plays on
sliding effortlessly
from Singing In The Rain
to Josephine
a singer in love
with the lyrics
oblivious to indifference
he plays to entertain
himself
it will be easy
to make some hard decisions
there is nothing here
that cannot be abandoned
there is no claim on my heart
Sorrow, it is not true that I know you;
you are the nostalgia for a good life,
and the aloneness of the soul in shadow,
the sailing ship without wreck and without guide.
Like an abandoned dog who cannot find
a smell or a track and roams
along the roads, with no road, like
the child who in a night of the fair
gets lost among the crowd,
and the air is dusty, and the candles
fluttering–astounded, his heart
weighed down by music and the pain;
that’s how I am, drunk, sad by nature,
a mad and lunar guitarist, a poet,
and an ordinary man lost in dreams,
searching constantly for God among the mists.
translated by Robert Bly
You know every fruit grows more handsome in the light of the sun.
translated by Robert Bly
Wild Nights–Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile–the Winds–
To a heart in port–
Done with the Compass–
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden–
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor–Tonight–
In Thee!
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
A virtual cabaret of songs, stories and questionable life choices.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
She comes out of the rain in a silk dress
Leonard Durso 