Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
Following are several translations
of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be
the most famous of all haiku:
Furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
- Basho
......
Either peace or happiness,
let it enfold you
when I was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb, unsophisticated.
I had bad blood, a twisted
mind, a precarious
upbringing.
......
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings : save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
......
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,---
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
......
Since the elderly king greatly loved music, his court esteemed it, too;
As sun and moon smile on myriad colors, during the butterfly revue.
The king was well loved and jolly, with the queen, always by his side.
He ruled with caring. Like rainbow hued peaks, where indifference died.
His glorious reign had been lengthy, and the vast kingdom prospered;
Like the kingdom of regal, red lilies, blooming regularly as clockwork.
Fabled, flighty, fall days brought friends, on the spur of rare moment,
......
Rain is drizzling in slanting form,
Pelting my thatched roof gently.
Every globule of raindrop shines
With the power of water.
Outside, it’s cold, grey and hopefully dark,
The stars hiding behind blindfolded and
Piddling clouds, making love smoothly.
The cosmos, fatter, and at the same time, leaner,
Holds a confraternal festival of rain
That runs from seasons to ancestries.
......
Fingers dance on ivory roads,
a melody in midnight codes.
He plays what no one dares to say,
and makes the silence drift away.
A glass half full,a heart half gone-
he tells our stories,note by note,
then fades into the final song,
the one that keeps us all afloat.
#!/usr/bin/env python3
#if love is sharing the now, then
# -*- coding: utf-8 -*-
# magnetism is something else.
#spirituality is not religion or about region, and neither about french legion of honor.
def love_her():
rhythm = False
her_moves = {"dance": "none", "sex": "algorithm"}
......
From Chopin's diary, through my eyes
So calm, gentle and tender is the night
though there's no moon, stars or the faintest light
my heart wells never as before in such longing and sorrow
let my music tell my heartbreak-story though I know
love , the love of my life, will not once gain return
while my feelings within me so grievously burn
at this hour so bereft and solemn as I write my Nocturne
......