Short Poems

The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children.


Translated by Robert Hass

There was an old Shark with a smile
So broad you could see it a mile.
He said to his friends,
As he sewed up the ends,
'It was really too wide for the style.'

The sky is covered by dense clouds;
The atmosphere is intoxicated even now,
Although the evening has turned into night, I find
Her hair remain unknotted as before.

Mrs. McTwitter was the baby-sitter
I think she's a little bit crazy.
She thinks a baby-sitter's supposed
To sit upon the baby.

The silver swan, who living had no note,
When death approach'd, unlock'd her silent throat;
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more.
Farewell, all joys; O Death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.

The silver moon is set;
The Pleiades are gone;
Half the long night is spent, and yet
I lie alone.

Passions are liken'd best to floods and streams:
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb;
So, when affection yields discourse, it seems
   The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words, in words discover
That they are poor in that which makes a lover.

The silence of the night said:
'The dew is born.'
Each leaf perspired.
The morning ray was aghast
and
died near the frost.

The shroud that covers my world I must remove;
The darkness and the light they are here to roost.
O Tavern-keeper! I swear by the wine you serve
I shall surely return to your folds one day.

A shrimp who sought his lady shrimp
Could catch no glimpse
Not even a glimp.
At times, translucence
Is rather a nuisance.