A purple cloud drifts away
and the sky begins to clear.
The snow fallen stealthily in the night
bursts the pine grove into blossom.
Millions of flashing flakes
dazzle in the sunlight.
I gaze on them forgetful
of what happened during the night.
A purple cloud drifts away.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
I play a reed flute
On a Sprıng’s hill,
Longing for old home.
I play a reed flute
On a blooming hill,
Longing for childhood days.
I play a reed flute
In human streets,
Longing for earthly things.
I play a reed flute
On an endless wandering
Over the vales of tears.
When I die,
I’ll become a blue bird.
I’ll fly over
Blue Sky and blue field.
I’ll sing blue songs
And blue laments.
When I die,
I’ll become a blue bird.
On an ordinary autumn evening
Ordinary fruit is better.
Sometimes ordinary words
With no particular savor
Suit me better.
Hearing in memory
The last car depart,
I step over
The membrane of sleep,
And a fruit falls in my dream.
I will ask the wind
That departs in the morning
To what depths the fruit has fallen.
When I die,
I will become a rock,
never touched
by compassion, joy or anger.
While being torn down by wind and rain,
It will only whip itself inwards
in eternal, impersonal silence,
and at last forget its own existence;
Floating clouds, distant thunder!
Though it may dream,
it will never sing.
Though broken in pieces,
it will never utter a word.
I will become such a rock.
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
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
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
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Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
An 'erm, what I doing with my life?' cabaret.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
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L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
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Leonard Durso 