An entire tree of plum blossoms
between the snow and the moon
Pure petals, moonwhite moon
and snow glow cold
Inside, outside
clear and pure
We serve wine, sing poems
and let inspiration rise without end
Hard times,
Sea that hides its secrets,
Harbinger of the visionary.
Cast your pretensions aside
And take your measures.
You, who believed
That in wounding others, you would be saved,
And that misfortune would only come to others,
This time, evil has spared you.
Above all, don’t fool yourself where you shouldn’t.
Reason before unleashing your words:
All questions engender a response.
Never does a claimed right die
When there are men behind it,
Even if it appears farther than sun and moon.
You who evoke only in mocking
The weaknesses of others,
The day will come when yours will be displayed.
You who make evil the reason of life,
Don’t forget that you bathe in absolute shame.
You,
Sedentary without a home,
That riches that surround you will one day go up in smoke.
Very slowly the coming days will diminish your life,
Like wine dismantles reason.
It’s time to leave,
The caravan’s moving, and the horsemen as well,
And you are doing nothing for this voyage,
Too sure, you don’t really know what awaits you,
The days to come will scarcely give you reason.
Translation by Sylvia Mae Gorelick and Miles Joris-Peyrafitte
She enjoys her bad reputation.
For someone out at night
she provides better cover
than the night itself.
She enters every house
and nobody knows
just how far she goes.
She’s always courteous and friendly
to everyone she meets;
her steps never bother the neighbors.
Her cape is never folded;
it’s busier than a flag
in the midst of battle.
When she learned
how useful she is
she also learned the difference
between crime and cleverness.
Translation by Cola Franzen
Fluttering, the orioles
male and female together, so.
Reminded of my loneliness;
with whom will I ever go?
We present this work in honor of Dragon Boat Day.
Our boat starts at night
from the beach of Yen Kuang.
Great ships sail only for profit
Only small boats come here because of your fame.
The passers-by are embarrassed by your virtue.
So in the night we steal by the place where you used to fish.
‘Why was Adam driven from the garden?’
The pupil asked his master. ‘His heart was hardened
With images, a hundred bonds that clutter the earth
Chained Adam to the cycle of death following birth.
He was blind to this equation, living for something other
Than God and so out of paradise he was driven
With his mortal body’s cover his soul was shriven.
Noblest of God’s creatures, Adam fell with blame,
Like a moth shriveled by the candle’s flame,
Into history which taught mankind shame.
Since Adam had not given up his heart
To God’s attachment, there was no part
For Adam in paradise where the only friend
Is God; His will is not for Adam to imagine and bend.’
Rider, rider hurrying
Ever since the world was born,
Halt a moment at my spring
With the sunset and the morn.
Loiter where my river flows
Sliding like a speckled snake,
And the wizard zephyr blows
Weird enchantments for your sake.
The bird that sings the song of pain is love
The courier who knows the tongue of the Unseen is love
The existence that calls you to nonexistence is love
And that which redeems you from you is love
We present this work in honor of Simchat Torah.
O thou, who springest gloriously
From thy Creator’s fountain blest,
Arise, depart, for this is not thy -rest!
The way is long, thou must preparèd be,
Thy Maker bids thee seek thy goal—
Return then to thy rest, my soul,
For bountifully has God dealt with thee.
Behold! I am a stranger here,
My days like fleeting shadows seem.
When wilt thou, if not now, thy life redeem?
And when thou seek’st thy Maker have no fear,
For if thou have but purified
Thy heart from stain of sin and pride,
Thy righteous deeds to him shall draw thee near.
O thou in strength who treadest, learn
To know thyself, cast dreams away!
The goal is distant far, and short the day.
What canst thou plead th’ Almighty’s grace to earn?
Would thou the glory of the Lord
Behold, O soul? With prompt accord
Then to thy Father’s house return, return!
A world there is for those in love with mines of precious stones,
But bards select a different world as setting for their thrones.
The bird who eats love’s magic grain lives on another plane —
His nest beyond both worlds, ignoring riches, scorning fame.
Poets Corner 