Posts tagged poetry
Posts tagged poetry
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed… . Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see… . Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
O my love, you should have come, this rainy afternoon!
All morning I rocked alone in my orchid boat;
My sails are all crumpled and damp with spray.
All day I put nothing in my mouth
But sweet ginger tea and the stem
of my pipe. O my love, you should have come!
My hair exhales its perfume.
O my love, you should have come!
I peeled grapes and lychees and dropped them
into glasses of sweet wine, waiting for you.
My chamber is empty, but in its cage my beautiful bird sings.
O my love, you should have come—
My bed is draggled—I am eaten up with hunger—
My hair is unwashed. My bird screeches.
O my love—you should have come.
so basically this is a hot mess that i can’t decide if i want to fix or not. but i like it as it is, for now. and i hope you do, too!
Warm windy night—
The moon floats in velvet darkness
Above the glare of the streetlights.
A beautiful quilt
Soaking on a laundry line
In the sudden rain.
Out of the darkness
on a dark path,
I now set out.
Shine on me,
moon of the mountain edge.
- Izumi Shikibu trans. by Kenneth Rexroth
The loves of a little while ago
and the smoke of tobacco
little by little leave
- anonymous geisha, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
A wave of coldness
Passes between us,
And the distance of a foot
Becomes a thousand miles.
- Akiko Yosano, trans. by Glenn Hughes and Yozan T. Iwasaki
On the half-finished bridge.
- Basho, trans. by Robert Hass
bent to the shape
of the cold.
- Kobayashi Issa, trans. by Robert Hass
It is a bright house;
not a single room is dim.
It is a house which rises high
on the cliffs, open
as a lookout tower.
When the night comes
I put a light in it,
a light larger than the sun and the moon.
how my heart leaps
when my trembling fingers
strike a match in the evening.
I lift my breasts
and inhale and exhale the sound of love
like the passionate daughter of a lighthouse keeper.
It is a bright house.
I will create in it
a world no man can ever build.
- Fukao Sumako, trans. by Kenneth Rexroth