Celle qui tord au vent sa lourde chevelure
Où le rouge soleil a laissé sa brûlure,
Avant que de descendre aux gouffres de la mer,
C’est Astarté, la fille implacable de l’onde,
L’immortelle Beauté qui torture le monde,
Dont la lèvre, en douleurs comme en plaisirs féconde
A gardé pour nos pleurs le sel du flot amer.
A sweet high treble threads its silvery song,
Voice of the restless aspen, fine and thin
It trills its pure soprano, light and long-
Like the vibretto of a mandolin.
Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!
And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,
And let me call Heaven’s blessing on thine eyes,
And let me breathe into the happy air,
That doth enfold and touch thee all about,
Vows of my slavery, my giving up,
My sudden adoration, my great love!
Asleep in spring I did not heed the dawn
Till the birds broke out singing everywhere.
Last night, in the clamour of wind and rain, How many flowers have fallen
do you suppose?
Asked how old he was,
the boy in the new kimono
stretched out all five fingers.
Translated by Robert Hass
As they begin to rise again
Chrysanthemums faintly smell,
After the flooding rain
as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.
As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.
As in a pond that sleeps o'erhung by trees,
Two things at once in many a soul one sees :--
The sky, which points, the surface pure and calm,
With all its rays and clouds the heart to charm;
And then the depth, slime, hideous, dark, and dead,
Where foul black reptiles swarm, and vaguely tread.
Selv Stjernens Glands forsvinder ved det Fjerne,
Men Stjernen er og bliver dog en Stjerne.
