Short Poems

Death, when thou shalt come to me
Out of thy dark, where she is now,
Let no faint perfume cling to thee
Of withered roses on thy brow.

Strike, churl; hurl, cheerless wind, then; heltering hail
May’s beauty massacre and wispèd wild clouds grow
Out on the giant air; tell Summer No,
Bid joy back, have at the harvest, keep Hope pale.

Write on Life's tablet all things tender, great and good,
Uncaring that full oft thou art misunderstood.
Interpretation true is foreign to the throng
That runs and reads; heed not its praise or blame. Be strong!
Write on with steady hand, and, smiling, say, ''Tis well!'
If when thy deeds spell Heaven
The rabble read out Hell.

Straw sandal half sunk
in an old pond
in the sleety snow.


Translated by Robert Hass

Straitjacket heart
lips pressed against a window
freedom is the dream

Policeman, policeman,
Help me please.
Someone went and stole my knees.
I’d chase him down but I suspect
My feet and legs just won’t connect.

Stop talking,
Start meditating!
Stop meditating,
Start serving!
Stop serving,
Start self-giving!
Lo, your cosmic game is over!

If a nasty jagged stone
gets into your shoe,
thank the Lord it came alone-
what if it were two?

Stillness--
the cicada's cry
drills into the rocks.


Translated by Robert Hass

The high tower is a hundred feet tall,
From here one's hand could pluck the stars.
I do not dare to speak in a loud voice,
I fear to disturb the people in heaven.