Slowly, slowly will you mount this staircase
–A heap of sun-tinged leaves upon your skirts–
And for a while gaze weeping at the sky. . .
The waters darken and your face grows pale,
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes. . .
Bowed towards the earth, the roses,
Flame-like the nightingales bleed upon the boughs;
Has morning turned to bronze, do waters burn?
This is a secret tongue that fills the soul
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes. . .
translated by Bernard Lewis
On this dark night of love
Wildly the nightingale sings,
Has Leyla left Mejnun?
I thought the Wild voice sang of parting pain.
On this dark night of love
I felt my grief, remembered you,
Burned like the love-lorn nightingale’s sad refrain.
translated by Bernard Lewis
The traveler sojourning
on the fields of Aki
stretches as in sleep,
yet he cannot sleep,
thinking of the past.
translated by Ian Hideo Levy
Deep down, the night has massed again
My darling smiles in her wonted place
My darling who doesn’t come by day
Appears at night by the pool.
The moonlight a sash for her waist
The heavens her secret veil
The stars roses in her hand.
translated by Bernard Lewis
Where does it go for harbor
the tiny boat
with no gunwales,
that they rowed around Cape Are?
O, name shattered.
O, name vanished into thin air.
O, name without response to my call.
O, name I will be calling till death.
You’ve gone before, I have said,
one last word etched on my heart.
O, my love nearest my heart,
nearest my heart.
The red sun hangs over the western peaks.
Even a herd of deer laments.
I am calling to you
as I stand on a lone hill.
I call to you till sorrow chokes me,
sorrow chokes me.
But my voice rings hollow in the vast void
between heaven and earth.
Should I turn to stone
I will be calling to you.
O, my love nearest my heart,
nearest my heart.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
Fifteen years ago, beneath moonlight and flowers,
I walked with you
We composed flower-viewing poems together.
Tonight the moonlight and flowers are just the same
But how can I ever hold in my arms the same love.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
The perfume of the red water lilies
Dies away. The Autumn air
Penetrates the pearl jade curtain.
Torches gleam on the orchid boats.
Who has sent me a message
Of love from the clouds? It is
The time when the wild swans
Return. The moonlight floods the women’s
Quarters. Flowers, after their
Nature, whirl away in the wind.
Spilt water, after its nature
Flows together at the lowest point.
Those who are of one being
Can never stop thinking of each other.
But, ah, my dear, we are apart,
And I have become used to sorrow.
This love–nothing can ever
Make it fade or disappear.
For a moment it was on my eyebrows,
Now it is heavy in my heart.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of the world.
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.
I am circling around God, around the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,
and I still don’t know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song.
translated by Robert Bly
Tsukuba ne no
Mine yori otsuru
Minano gawa
Koi zo tsumorite
Fuchi to narikeru
Falling from the ridge
Of high Tsukuba,
The Minano River
At last gathers itself,
Like my love, into
A deep, still pool.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
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
Leonard Durso 