the flowers
she said
breathe life
in this room this house
a gift
from afar
yet as near
as a bouquet
of flowers
this heart
flowers
Arnella’s flowers
the air she breathes
fills her lungs
with the scent
of flowers
and her heart
becomes a rose
waiting for the man
who will pluck it
what is in my heart
flowers
as a gift
only hint at
what is in
my heart
among flowers
here
among flowers
I sing
your name
untitled poem 8 by Fernando Pessoa
If sometimes I say that flowers smile
And if I should say that rivers sing,
It’s not because I think there are smiles in flowers
And songs in the rivers’ flowing. . .
It’s so I can help misguided men
Feel the truly real existence of flowers and rivers.
Since I write for them to read me, I sometimes stoop
To the stupidity of their senses. . .
It isn’t right, but I excuse myself,
Because I’ve only taken on the odious role, an interpreter of Nature,
Because there are men who don’t grasp its language,
Which is no language at all.
translated by Richard Zenith
untitled poem 6 by Fernando Pessoa
Now that I feel love,
I’m interested in fragrances.
It never used to interest me that flowers have smell.
Now I feel their fragrance as if I were seeing something new.
I know they smelled before, even as I know I existed.
These are things we know outwardly.
But now I know with the breathing at the back of my head.
Now flowers have a delicious taste I can smell.
Now I sometimes wake up and smell before I see.
translated by Richard Zenith
Begonias by Su Tung P’o
The East wind blows gently.
The rising rays float
On the thick perfumed mist.
The moon appears, right there,
At the center of the balcony.
I only fear in the depth of night
The flowers will fall asleep.
I hold up a gilded candle
To shine on their scarlet beauty.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Leonard Durso 