The grains burst from too much gold.
Scattered around red poppy drops–
girl in the field,
eyelashed as long as barley stalks,
gathers bundles of clear sky in her gaze
and sings.
I lie in the shadow of poppies
Without desires, needs, remorse.
I am flesh and dirt.
She sings.
I listen.
On her warm lips my soul is born.
translated by Andrei Codrescu
You arrived with sixteen gladioli
to pay respects to the dead.
Under my gaze, the colors live
a secret life.
For food we need only
beauty on a plate.
In the morning: saffron.
For lunch: violets with mussels.
In the evening: pollen from sixteen gladioli.
Food is love as yet unborn.
On the table, among your flowers,
the body of the Lord,
offering itself eternally to all.
translated by Adam J. Sorkin & Inger Johansson
Truth is beyond the song of the free bird,
beyond the dreaming flesh.
To recognize it
beneath this most refined of identities,
you’d have to tear the face from it
by its skin.
translated by the poet, Adam J. Sorkin, & Tess Gallagher
You who come from my village
Ought to know its affairs
The day you passed the silk window
Had the chill plum bloomed?
translated by Gary Snyder
Don’t say “One cup of wine.”
Tomorrow will we hold this cup?
And if in dreams I can’t find this road,
how, thinking of you,
will I be comforted?
translated by Lenore Mayhew & William McNaughton
A single petal swirling diminishes the spring.
Ten thousand dots adrift in the wind, they sadden me.
Shouldn’t I then gaze at flowers about to fall before my eyes?
Never disdain the hurtful wine that passes through my lips.
In the small pavilion by the river nest the kingfisher birds;
Close by a high tomb in the royal park lie stone unicorns.
This, a simple law of nature: seek pleasure while there’s time.
Who needs drifting fame to entangle the body?
translated by Irving Y. Lo
I rinse my mouth in the water and wash my feet.
In front, I face an old man angling for fish:
How many in all are those who lusted for bait
And now vainly long to be “east of the lotus leaves.”
translated by Hugh M. Stimson
Dismounting, I offer you wine
And ask, “Where are you bound?”
You say, “I’ve found no fame or fortune;
I must return to rest in the South Mountain.”
You leave, and I ask no more–
White clouds drift on and on.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Such radiance of green,
so casual and composed;
The tint of her dress
Blends crimson with pink.
The heart of a flower
is nearly torn with grief:
Will spring’s brilliance
ever know her heart?
translated by Irving Y. Lo
If the ones who will see us together tomorrow,
Ask you “who was the one you were together with yesterday?”
Don’t tell them about me in detail,
Briefly say “the one who is the rest of my life…”
translated by Nejla Karabulut
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 