Short Poems

Listening to the moon,
gazing at the croaking of frogs
in a field of ripe rice.


Translated by Robert Hass

Listen to Mustn'ts, child, listen to the Don'ts.
Listen to the Shouldn'ts, the Impossibles, the Won'ts.
Listen to the Never Haves, then listen close to me.
Anything can happen, child, Anything can be.

The joy of God gets into us, and we
Hum with the intuition of His power;
Even as a linnet, like a thing inspired,
Throats his love-lyrics in the dewy leaves.

The little and the great are joined in one
By God's great force. The wondrous golden sun
Is linked unto the glow-worm's tiny spark;
The eagle soars to heaven in his flight;
And in those realms of space, all bathed in light,
Soar none except the eagle and the lark.

Two things remain unalter'd in this place,
Tho' since I came here forty years are told—
The smiling loveliness of Nature's face,
And the fine spirit of kindly, courteous grace,
That still presides here as it did of yore.

I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie,
Do you think my mind is maturing late,
Or simply rotted early?

The South of Scotland did produce
Heroic Wallace and the Bruce,
And even time will never blot
The record of her Burns and Scott,
And Tannahil renowned Bard,
And that sweet songster Ettrick, shepherd.

With shadowy pen I write,
Till time be done,
Good news of some strange light,
Some far off sun.

A strong man weep, a fair girl die,
A boy in pain, a mother sigh.
These things do wring my heart well-nigh,
I know not why, I know not why.

limitations gone
since my mind fixed on the moon
clarity and serenity
make something for which
there's no end in sight