No exchange of glances a barren beach
How I hate myself for it
Doesn’t he realize it
Heedless of distance , the fisherman
Coming and going on weary legs
No exchange of glances a barren beach
How I hate myself for it
Doesn’t he realize it
Heedless of distance , the fisherman
Coming and going on weary legs
He colour of this flower
Has already faded away
While in idle thoughts
My life goes by
As I watch the long rains fall
The fisherfolk live
With in the bay, rowing boats
With out oars
They are all at sea how cruel the world
Where I am sunk in sadness
In this world
The living grow fewer
The dead increase
How much longer
Must I carry this body of grief ?
In reality
You must do it, I suppose
But even in my dreams, too
Hiding from prying eyes
To see you do that pains me so
Upon the path of dreams
My feet don’t rest
Constantly trailing to you, yet
In reality, a single glimpse
Not even that have I had of you
Upon my breast
Floats a boat of heartbreak
And I have just embarked
There is not a single day when waves
Do not soak my sleeves.
Visible Colours (invisible passions)
Fade from
This worlds
Human hearts
And flowers.
Without end
Do I think of you and so
Come to me at night
For on the path of dreams at least,
There’s no one to disapprove
When my desire
Grows too fierce
I wear my bed clothes
Inside out
Dark as the night’s rough husk.
Was I lost in thoughts of love
When I closed my eyes ?
He appeared, and
Had I known it for a dream
I would not have awakened
In my desolation
I am as duckweed:
Cut my roots and
Take me away-would the water do it,
I should go, I think.
I long for him most
during these long moonless nights.
I lie awake, hot,
the growing fires of passion
bursting in my heart.
Another translation by Kenneth Rexroth:
You do not come
On this moonless night.
I wake wanting you.
My breasts heave and blaze.
My heart burns up.
Another translation:
I would meet him
But there’s no way, so on this moonless night
From my yearning the embers of my love
Send sparks leaping in my breast,
Setting my heart aflame.
How sad,
to think I will end
as only
a pale green mist
drifting the far fields.
How hollow
Are tears upon a sleeve
In gemlets;
For mine cannot be dammed
As a surging flood!
Fisher folk live
In villages; where
I know not, yet
Constant complaints to see the shore
Are all he seems to say.
Feeling:
This thing-most of all-is
The world of men’s
Unbreakable
Bond.
Blossoms blooming
Yet making no seed are
The sea-god’s
Garlanded
Whitecaps offshore.
Atop this crag
I am to spend a traveller’s night;
So cold!
Your robes of moss,
Won’t you lend me?
As I dozed
The man I love
Appeared, so
It is dreams that
Have begun to comfort me
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