Net of Fireflies. Harold Stewart. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Harold Stewart
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781462901210
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Oh, pity me that I have not gone mad!

      —RAIZAN

      A STREET IN EDO

      Through this shower in spring, at dusk dispersing,

       A raincoat and umbrella stroll, conversing. . . .

      —BUSON

      BEFORE NIGHTFALL

      With willows drooping overhead, they light

       The lamps upon the palace gates tonight.

      —SHIKI

      THE SPRING FESTIVAL

      What pains I took to hang my lantern on

       The branch of cherry-blossom, where it shone!

      —SHIKI

      ROMANCE

      Evening in spring: the fox's phantom played

       A young and gallant prince in masquerade,3

      —BUSON

      BY STARLIGHT

      How the racemes of white wistaria sway,

       As though the night wind blew the Milky Way!

      —HAJIN

      THE CATCH

      I shook my net where whitebait seemed to thresh:

       A shoal of moonbeams slithered through the mesh.

      —ÔTÔ

      EXCAVATIONS BY NIGHT

      At dawn my violets grew aslant: a hole

       Was tunnelled underneath them by a mole.

      —BONCHÔ

      ON A HIGH PASS

      Above the mountain's snow-white vapour floats

       An airy voice: the skylark's rising notes.

      —KYOROKU

      NATURALLY

      How heart-appealing, on the mountain-pass,

       Are wild violets hidden in the grass!

      —BASHÔ

      AT NISHIGÔ RAPIDS

      Has the cascade shaken with rushing sound

       These yellow kerria petals toward the ground?

      —BASHÔ

      TRANSPARENT PRESENCE

      A veering school of lancelets was inferred

       Only because the water's clearness stirred.

      —RAIZAN

      VIEW OF KÔRIYAMA

      Roof upon roof the white-walled castle towers

       Above a plain of rape with golden flowers.

      —KYOROKU

      RETURN OF THE DISPOSSESSED

      The same old village: here where I was born,

       Every flower I touch—a hidden thorn.

      —ISSA

      THE ORPHANS

      Oh, ragged sparrow without any mother,

       When we are lonely, let's play with each other!

      —ISSA (aged 6)

      SUNSHOWER

      Warm sunshine through a clearing after showers;

       And for a while, the scent of hawthorn flowers.

      —KYOSHI

      STILL UNION

      Single butterflies dancing through the air

       Until they meet: how motionless a pair!

      —BASHÔ

      BONDAGE

      The caged bird gazes at the butterflies

       Beyond the bars with longing—watch its eyes!

      —ISSA

      LIBERATION

      The skylark's song above the meadow-flowers

       Would last for longer than the day has hours.

      —BASHÔ

      IN THE MEADOW

      Oh who, untouched by tenderness, can pass

       Small white daisies scattered in the grass?

      —HÔ-Ô

      FAIR WARNING

      Young sparrows, ruffled in a dust-bath, fly

       Out of the way! My horse is plodding by.

      —ISSA

      UNDERCURRENT

      A cumbersome waggon rumbled down the hill

       Under its load: my peonies tremble still.

      —BUSON

      SOWN WITH GOLD

      How far these fields of rape in blossom run:

       East to the moonrise, west to the setting sun!

      —BUSON

      TRANSMIGRATION

      Lighting one candle with another's flame

       At dusk in spring—the same, yet not the same.

      —BUSON

      EPITOME OF SPRING

      Glimpsed through a crevice in the garden fence,

       One white flower is spring s impermanence.

      —BUSON

      AND SO

      And so the spring buds burst, and so I gaze,

       And so the blossoms fall, and so my days. . . .

      —ONITSURA

      BURNT OUT

      Onto the ashes where my cottage burned,

       The cherry-blossoms scatter, unconcerned.

      —HOKUSHI

      ONE SPRING DAY

      How fragile, how ephemeral in flight

       This life—for instance: butterfly, alight!

      —SÔIN

      DOWN THE AVENUE

      The curtain of the daimyo's palanquin

       Was lifted. Cherry-petals drifted in.

      —MÔGAN

      THE DELICATE TOUCH

      Violets in retirement near its trail

       Are touched in passing by the pheasant's tail.

      —SHÛSHIKI

      RAPE OF SPRING

      The cherry-petals' loosely fluttering swarm

       Is put to flight; in dark pursuit—the storm!

      —SADAIE

      THE MIDDLE WAY

      A white