Short Poems

Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal

Sappho
tr. Barnard

It is the Muses
who have caused me
to be honred: they
taught me their craft

Sappho
tr. Barnard

Before they were mothers
Leto and Niobe
had been the most
devoted of friends

Sappho
tr. Barnard

I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument

Sappho
tr. Barnard

Here at the world's end the cold winds are beginning to blow. What messages
have you for me, my master? When will the poor wandering goose arrive? The
rivers and lakes are swollen with autumn's waters. Art detests a too successful
life; and the hungry goblins await you with welcoming jaws. You had better have
a word with the ghost of that other wronged poet. Drop some verses into the
Mi-lo as an offering to him!

Tu Fu (tr. Hawkes)

Much did I rage when young,
Being by the world oppressed,
But now with flattering tongue
It speeds the parting guest.

You say, as I have often given tongue
In praise of what another's said or sung,
'Twere politic to do the like by these;
But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?

Shakespearean fish swam the sea, far away from land;
Romantic fish swam in nets coming to the hand;
What are all those fish that lie gasping on the strand?

You think it horrible that lust and rage
Should dance attention upon my old age;
They were not such a plague when I was young;
What else have I to spur me into song?

Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.