Short Poems

P LASMUS the poore and bare Gymnosophist,
Contemplates of the sunne, the moone and starres;
Besides he is a perfect Alchymist;
He makes th' elixer which so many marres;
Ripley and Kelley of his skill did faile
Yet scarce he hath one ragge vpon his taile.

Menus delights in solitary cells
And places most remote from all repaire;
He loues to liue where Desolation dwels,
And loaths the sunne for lightning of the aire.
Its true indeede (obscur'd) he haunts the hole
Which no man will come neere but such a foole.

A FRANIA can not blush; for blushing comes
From shame of our owne faults which we conceiue;
How should she blush when impudence benums
Her sence of shame wherewith she should perceiue?
Then is shee shamelesse? yea the very same:
Yet the lesse shame she hath the more's her shame.

When L——lles thought fit from this world to depart,
Some friends warmly spoke of embalming his heart;
A bystander whispers—‘Pray don't make so much o't,
‘The subject is poison, no reptile will touch it.’—

An honest man here lies at rest
As e'er God with his image blest.
The friend of man, the friend of truth;
The friend of Age, and guide of Youth;
Few hearts like his with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd;
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.—

Leaves have fallen
in this village
at the foot of Mount Ogura
and I can see the moon
shining in the tops of the trees

On the waters
of the flowing river,
a jewel, a bead of foam—
the pity
of this fugitive world!

I curse myself: “the material for socks” is truly a pain.
I breathe on the frosty brush to melt it to paint bamboo.
Don't tell me at the year-end I grow old with nothing to do.
I, too, keep busy trying to take care of my debts.

Fly away, fly away, over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

Your thoughts don't have words every day
They come a single time
Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine
Which while you taste so native seems
So easy so to be
You cannot comprehend its price
Nor its infrequency