Short Poems

Bow, wow, wow!
Whose dog art thou?
"I'm little Tom Tinker's dog,
Bow, wow, wow!"

Gather quickly
Out of darkness
All the songs you know
And throw them at the sun
Before they melt
Like snow

Bogen kom først, og jeg kom sidst,
Det for mig selv var det Bedste vist;
Skudsmaalet først, Personen siden!
Hold lidt venligt paa Begge i Tiden!

Why shall I keep the old name?
What is a name anywhere anyway?
A name is a cheap thing all fathers and mothers leave each child:
A job is a job and I want to live, so
Why does God Almighty or anybody else care whether I take a new name to go by?

Ære og Lov til dig, Satan, i det højeste
af Himlen, hvor du har hersket, og i det dybeste
Helvede, hvor nu, betvungen, du drømmer i Tavshed!
Du lade min Sjæl en Dag hvile med dig
under Kundskabens Træ, den Stund, da over din Pande
som et nyt Tempel dets Grene skal brede sig!

By the bridge over Qin-wei River,
Wild flowers and grass had grown over.
In Black Shirt Lane, nothing much differed,
And at the entrance it was the same sunset ever.
Into the halls of dignities , the swallows once flown,
But now they are finding their way in ordinary homes.

Writes he in Neski,
Faithfully speaks he;
Writes he in Tali,
Joy to give, seeks he:
Writes he in either,
Good!--for he loves!

All kinds of men, both small and great,
A fine-spun web delight to create,
And in the middle they take their place,
And wield their scissors with wondrous grace.
But if a besom should sweep that way:
'What a most shameful thing,' they say,--
'They've crush'd a mighty palace to-day.'

Love's torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy.

The mirror tells me, I am fair!

Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will be.
Nought in God's presence changeth e'er,--

Love him, for this one moment, then, in me.