Short Poems

Pipes de nuit pipes du jour
Tout l'opium ô chevelures
Les cheveux bruns de mon amour
Et ces lenteurs tandis que dure
L'éveil des monstres tour à tour

Remember that vegan called Steven
Yes he would not kill for no reason,
Well I saw him today
Wearing nothing I say
But some cabbage leaves
With a few peas on.

There was a young vegan
Called Steven,
Who just would not kill for no reason,
This kid would not eat
No cheese or no meat
And he hated the foxhunting season.

Veer-nag, I'll go to usher thee,
Thy brow I'll deck in flowers of Acha-bal
Yeh, vine I'll twins thee to my breast
come ye kasturi, don't roam the meadows free

Først efter Aar fik du Din Bog tilbage, -
Men da tillige som Photographi
Et Billed af mit Indre op ad Dage:
Min Magelighed uden Mage,
Mit Mesterskab i Nøleri.

Saa vejer vi nu atter i vor bævende Haand
de Gaver, der kom fra din sangstærke Aand.

Vi kysser dine Gaver, vi signer din Aand,
imens der drypper Taarer paa Skatten i vor Haand.

Many are good and wise; yet all for one only reckon,
For 'tis conception, alas, rules them, and not a fond heart.
Sad is the sway of conception,--from thousandfold varying figures,
Needy and empty but one it is e'er able to bring.
But where creative beauty is ruling, there life and enjoyment
Dwell; to the ne'er-changing One, thousands of new forms she gives.

A tree is valuable,
more valuable its fruits;
the tree dies, its fruits become the trees then.

A river is valuable,
more valuable its water;
no water, no river then.

My candle burned alone in an immense valley.
Beams of the huge night converged upon it,
Until the wind blew.
The beams of the huge night
Converged upon its image,
Until the wind blew.

In hand I take this pen of mine
To write you, sweet, a valentine;
I’d take your dainty hand instead,
But—you’re a drawing—I am wed—
And that is why, you understand,
I only take my pen in hand.