Taking off my gloves, my hands stop–
what is it?
a memory flits through my mind
translated by Hiroaki Sato
memory
the point
ice cubes bump shoulders
raise the glass
to lips
swallowing won’t kill
memories
only heighten them
which may be the point
after all
to drinking
untitled poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
a tanka in three lines by Ishikawa Takuboku
Sadness of the lifeless sand:
rustling,
it falls through my fingers as I clutch it
a tanka by Fujiwara No Teika
Thinking of the past I wake, mind empty–
the moonlight gone, I do not know where
Cassia Flowers by Li Ch’ing-chao
The twisted limbs break
Into ten thousand flecks of gold,
On layer upon layer of carved jade leaves,
Fresh and bright as the grace of Yen Fu.
The heaps of plum petals seem vulgar.
The lilacs seem coarse and contorted.
Your perfume has broken into
My sorrowful dream of the one
A thousand miles away,
And left me drained of emotion.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
Untitled Poem by Yamabe No Akahito
The mists rise over
The still pools at Asuka.
Memory does not
Pass away so easily.
Asuka gawa
Kawa yodo sarazu
Tatsu kiri no
Omoi sugu beki
Koi ni aranaku ni
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Leonard Durso 