Short Poems

When I remember Jiangnan,
What I remember most is Hangzhou
From mountain temples I would search for the cassia tree in the moon,
From the pavilion, I would watch the crests of waves from my pillow
When can I go there again?

Often I visit the little barber shop,
And watch the white clad barbers
Shave in turn the row of dirty, bearded men,
Until they leave the place, smiling, clean and fresh,
And then I wish I were a barber sent by God,
Shaving men's rusty souls with steel tongued words,
Until they shone like polished, flawless gold
As when they left His hands.

Oh, in South Australia where I was born, Heave away,
haul away! In South Australia 'round Cape Horn, I'm
bound for South Australia! Heave away, you ruler
king, Heave away, haul away! Heave away,
don't you hear me sing? We're bound for South Australia!

Mr. Asquith says in a manner sweet and calm:
Another little drink wouldn't do us any harm.

too impatient to wait
for summer, plum blossoms
in a white suit of snow

A white curtain turning in an open window.

A swan, dipping a white neck in the trees' shadow,
hardly beating the water with golden feet.

Sorrow before her
was gone like noise from a street,

Tarry sweete love,
harke how the winds doe murmure at your Flyghte.
See how the trees in order growe,
the coole earth shodoinge belowe;
see the wanton streames how they playe by the banke side.
Then Stay in hope my lighte, my Joye, my life, my soule;
heere may you safe abide.

The poems of Rossetti
Were sweetly pretty,
Especially that one which began,
‘Why did you melt your waxen man?’

Red-faced asuras, rank with the spirit of blood,
screaming insults, in wild movement, demolish heaven and earth.
When they lose a battle, their skulls are split.
Immeasurable eons their ancient spirits shall roam.

How can we ever lose interest in life?
Spring has come again
And cherry trees bloom in the mountains.