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