Short Poems

There is a creator called God,
Whose creations are some of them odd.
I maintain, and I shall,
The creation of Val
Reflects little credit on God.

First snowfall
of cherry petals
starting to scatter—
how hateful, tramping through it
over the pass from Shiga!

The water, around the bank, leads to a village.
Beyond the trees vaguely we see a sake parlor.
No one on the beach, we call for the ferryman and wait;
reed flowers, like snow, flutter into his empty boat.

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow;
What are brief? Today and tomorrow;
What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;
What are deep? The ocean and truth.

Rise, Houshold-gods, and let us goe;
But whither, I my selfe not know.
First, let us dwell on rudest seas;
Next, with severest Salvages;
Last, let us make our best abode,
Where humane foot, as yet, ne'r trod:
Search worlds of Ice; and rather there
Dwell, then in lothed Devonshire.

Trigg having turn'd his sute, he struts in state,
And tells the world, he's now regenerate.

Play their offensive and defensive parts,
Till they be hid o'er with a wood of darts.

Gurus are of these four orders: each according to his powers.
The Lamp Guru, the Stone transmutant, the Sandal forest and the Bee.
Charan Das most mighty Guru, all the powers meet in him.
He comes to each, as each one needs him: never one does he leave empty.

until they melt
hailstones retain
their original shape

God send that never I speak truth again!
It's too strong meat for these most silly men!
God send that never in my life I lie!
God give me blessèd silence till I die!