(No Subject)

next message in archive
no next message in thread
previous message in archive
Index of Subjects


of the Buddha on the moor

hang icicles.

    Issa/trans. Robert Hass=20



Nursing, mother counts

the fleabites on her daughter=92s

small white body

    Issa/trans. Sam Hamill



Summer=92s first melon

lies firmly hugged to the breast

of a sleeping child

    Issa/ trans. Hamill=20



My hand,

a thing with hairs,

rising and falling with my belly.

    Jack Kerouac=20



On the withered grass

Shimmering heat waves rise

One or two inches high.

    Basho/trans. Makota Ueda=20



At night, quietly

A worm in the moonlight

Digs into a chestnut.

    Basho/trans. Ueda



Bright autumn moon;

pond snails hissing

in the saucepan.

    Issa/trans. Robert Hass



This line of black ants =96=20

maybe it goes all the way back

to that white cloud!

    Issa/trans. Robert Bly




The man pulling radishes

pointed my way

with a radish.

    Issa/trans. Hass



The snow beginning to melt,

With my stick I made a great river

At the front gate.

    Issa/trans. R.H. Blyth



Seasonal rain =96=20

Poetry cards have been peeled off,

Leaving traces on the walls.

    Basho/trans. Ueda



Eleven horsemen =96=20

not one of them turns his head =96=20

through the wind-blown snow.

    Shiki/trans. Ciarin Carson=20

******

The floors are ice cold.

I walk the dark, and snap! step

On my dead wife's comb.

    Buson/trans. Peter Van Toorn=20



The temple bell stops =96=20

but the sound keeps coming

out of the flowers.

    Basho/trans. Bly



The squid-seller's voice

Is indistinguishable

next message in archive
no next message in thread
previous message in archive
Index of Subjects