Short Poems

Be sure to invite me
when your wine matures.
I shall invite you
if flowers bloom in my arbor.
We shall discuss, then, how to live
a hundred years without worry.

Head bowed beneath her black turban, she glances up at her daughter
who eyes in the mirror herself, yellow hair and beautiful face.

Sorrows play at the edge of these willow leaf curves
They are often reflected, deep, deep,
In my water blossom inlaid mirror.
I am too pretty to bother with an eyebrow pencil.
Spring hills paint themselves
With their own personality.

While yet the grapes were green, thou didst refuse me,
When they were ripe, didst proudly pass me by;
But do not grudge me still a single cluster,
Now that the grapes are withering and dry.

Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now,
And you her father. Every gentle maid
Should have a guardian in each gentleman.

My lady's tongue is like the meadow blades,
That cut you stroking them with idle hand.
Nice cutting is her function: she divides
With spiritual edge the millet-seed,
And makes intangible savings.

Notre ami Monsieur de Jouy
Sur qui les ans ne peuvent mordre,
O mes chers hôtes! qu'ai-je oui,
Est nommé Conseiller de l'Ordre.

Au solennel champ de blé
Quand la brise se déroule
Sourit l'espoir assemblé
De pain pour toute la foule.

Montargis, séjour, au buffet
De qui le ciel à flots s'épanche
Je mets comme le chien eût fait
Mon museau sur votre main blanche.

Ma sagesse vis-à-vis
De vous les deux se condense
Toute en ce nouvel avis
Riez et même qu'on danse.