English

Brown bunny sits inside his burrow
Till everything is still,
Then out he slips along the furrow,
Or up the grassy hill.

He nibbles all about the bushes
Or sits to wash his face,
But at a sound he stamps, and rushes
At a surprising pace.

You see some little streaks and flashes,
A last sharp twink of white,
As down his hidy-hole he dashes
And disappears from sight.

I

'Tis said:

At the beginning of remote antiquity,
Who was there to transmit the tale?
When above and below had not yet taken shape,
By what means could they be examined?

When darkness and light were obscured,
Who could fathom them?
When primal matter was the only form,
How could it be recognized?

Brightness became bright and darkness dark;
What has caused them to be like this?
Yin and yang commingle;
What was basic, what transformed?

Brown Baby Cobina, with his large black velvet eyes,
His little coos of ecstacies, his gurgling of surprise,
With brass bells on his ankles, that laugh where'er he goes,
It's so rare for bells to tinkle, above brown dimpled toes.

Brown B ABY C OBINA is so precious that we fear
Something might come and steal him, when we grown-ups are not near;
So we tied bells on his ankles, and kissed on them this charm —
" Bells, guard our Baby Cobina from all devils and all harm. "

A hazy mountain temple hides away behind the setting sun.
Dusk falls before birds on the wing get halfway up to the top.
From above, a single chime of the temple bell
Brings the passing clouds to a halt.

I try to climb the lofty peak to steal a look at the bright Moon.
Maybe she is in the mood to open the Eye of Heaven for a peep at the mundane world.
Pity is that I am but a mortal in her heavenly eyes.

In Africa little black boys,
" human brooms, " are sent before the explorers
into jungle grasses that tower many feet
to tread down a path
and meet sometimes
the lurking leopard or hyena.
They are called Dew-Driers.
Brother to the firefly —
For as the firefly lights the night,
So lights he the morning —
Bathed in the dank dews as he goes forth
Through heavy menace and mystery
Of half-waking tropic dawn,
Behold a little black boy,
A naked black boy,
Sweeping aside with his slight frame

Faded hibiscus and its leaves
Wilt side by side
Artemisia that stood high above the wall
Now half-decayed
Under the slanting sun's gaze
Someone in a lonely lodge
Is prone to heart-rending sorrow.

Sit and you sense the broad sweep
Of clear returning autumn;
Watch and you are dazzled by
The brilliance of the departing sun
How can the human world ever
Live out these lengthening nocturnal hours?

Then and now rivers and mountains have no certain lot.
In the painted bugle's cry,
Herd upon herd of horses come and gone.
This view abrim with barren chill, who could express?
The west wind has blown all the scarlet maples old.

Hidden griefs from long ago, where could I find the words?
Ironclad steeds, gold-tipped spears,
A green tomb by the road at yellow dusk.
My feelings grow ever deeper, who knows how deep?
Setting sun deep in mountains, rain deep in autumn.

Brother, come!
And let us go unto our God.
And when we stand before Him
I shall say—
“Lord, I do not hate,
I am hated.
I scourge no one,
I am scourged.
I covet no lands,
My lands are coveted.
I mock no peoples,
My people are mocked.”
And, brother, what shall you say?

Brother Astolfo sated appetite
By rubbing off against a choirboy's bum
Until the ground was all a-wash with cum.
Was he, therefore, a sinful sodomite?

No, he was not. Brother Astolfo went
Not in the bum but on the surface skin
And since such friction is not deemed a sin
It constitutes no cause for punishment.

There's no occasion for knocking at an out-of-the-way door;
What good fortune brings an old friend to tap at my thatch gate?
Set amidst hills, the house is half hidden in a mantle of moss;
Felled to serve as a bridge, the gnarled tree still puts forth new leaves.
Young bamboo shoots sprout in the gentle noonday breeze;
Drifting petals fall into my tea-stove by mistake.
Our feelings calm as water, the two of us sit relaxed
Facing each other in the woods,
Regaled with the birdsong of Spring.