Short Poems

With every gust of wind,
the butterfly changes its place
on the willow.

The dog has shrunk between the brake and clutch. His shaking shakes a two-ton truck. From a God

With arms spread out, he longingly pleads;
There being no other alternative he relies on fate;
Ignorance and delusion continue to afflict man,
Grant him the insight he badly needs.

With a warbler for
a soul, it sleeps peacefully,
this mountain willo

With a rope of loose-spun thread am I towing
my boat upon the sea.
Would that God heard my prayer
and brought me safe across!
Like water in cups of unbaked clay
I run to waste.
Would God I were to reach my home!

The star in my
Hand is falling

All the uniforms know what's no use

May I bow to Necessity not
To her hirelings

There are some things in life are very poor,
And some unpriceable: our wisdom is
To know our rubbish and our riches here;
To, as it were, sort out ourselves, and blow
The world's dust off the jewels that we have,
Revealing them.

Wouldst thou, my friend, mount up to the highest summit of wisdom,
Be not deterred by the fear, prudence thy course may deride
That shortsighted one sees but the bank that from thee is flying,
Not the one which ere long thou wilt attain with bold flight.

Here are sad flowers, with wintry weeping wet,
Dews of the dark that drench the violet.
Thus over Her, whom death yet more endears,
Nature and Man together blend their tears.

Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.


Translated by Robert Hass