poems i like

the thief left it behind

the moon

at my window

— 良寛大愚

The stars have already

opened

their autumn eyes

— 尾崎紅葉

Moon has set

and Pleiades: middle

night, the hour goes by,

alone I lie.

— Σαπφώ

big waterfall

joining its constant roar

autumn's voice

— 篠田悌二郎

Insomnia. Homer. Taut sails.

I’ve read to the middle of the list of ships:

the strung-out flock, the stream of cranes

that once rose above Hellas.

Flight of cranes crossing strange borders,

leaders drenched with the foam of the gods,

where are you sailing? What would Troy be to you,

men of Achaea, without Helen?

The sea – Homer – it’s all moved by love. But to whom

shall I listen? No sound now from Homer,

and the black sea roars like a speech

and thunders up the bed.

— О́сип Эми́льевич Мандельшта́м

on this road

goes no one

autumn evening

— 松尾芭蕉

A spring ode

I dared to lightly compose.

But the lines I'd held in my mouth

Fell into my half-drained cup.

Already undone

By the river reflecting willows.

More so

By the plum trees hidden in snow.

So few of us in harmony:

Absolutely futile.

A rush of grief quickens

Then arrives.

From poetry,

What atonement?

One just feels the white hairs

Hastening.

— 義山

one leaf falls

alas! another

with the wind

— 服部嵐雪

The paper before my eyes fades yellow

With a steel pen I chisel on it uneven black

Full of working words

Workshop, assembly line, machine, work card, overtime, wages...

They've trained me to become docile

Don't know how to shout or rebel

How to complain or denounce

Only how to silently suffer exhaustion

When I first set foot in this place

I hoped only for that grey pay slip on the tenth of each month

To grant me some belated solace

For this I had to grind away my corners, grind away my words

Refuse to skip work, refuse sick leave, refuse leave for private reasons

Refuse to be late, refuse to leave early

By the assembly line I stood straight like iron, hands like flight,

How many days, how many nights

Did I - just like that - standing fall asleep?

— 许立志

Who can even discuss the master's methods?

Speaking of Dao, talking of Zen, your tongues grow long.

Old Ikkyū abhors your scrambling after marvels.

I make a pinched, sour face, all this incense thrown on the Buddha.

— 一休宗純

Lenin walks around the world.

Frontiers cannot bar him.

Neither barracks nor barricades impede.

Nor does barbed wire scar him.

Lenin walks around the world.

Black, brown, and white receive him.

Language is no barrier.

The strangest tongues believe him.

Lenin walks around the world.

The sun sets like a scar.

Between the darkness and the dawn

There rises a red star.

— Langston Hughes

Wind sweeps the world and rain darkens the village,

Rumbles roll off the mountains like ocean waves churning.

The furnance is soothing and the rug is warm,

Me and my cat are not leaving the house.

— 陆游

There is the roof. Dispelling that first doubt.

Smoke drifting from the hearth: there's someone home.

Aboard the ship they'd thought: it might turn out

That nothing here was unchanged save the moon.

— Bertolt Brecht

one by one

the stars, shimmeringly

the crickets, profusely

— 星野立子

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