Posts Tagged ‘ shell ’

Today’s Haiku (June 22, 2020) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

貝塚にシカの骨ある青嵐  米田清文

kaizuka ni shika no hone aru aoarashi

deer bones

at the shell midden

fresh wind through the verdure

Kiyofumi Yoneta

 

Fay Aoyagi, translation

from ‘Haidan,’ (‘Haiku Stage’) a monthly haiku magazine, July 2017 Issue, Honami Shoten, Tokyo

Fay’s note: ‘aoarashi’ (literary translation: ‘blue storm’), a summer kigo, is ‘a fresh strong wind blowing in the season of green new leaves.’

Source: Today’s Haiku (June 22, 2020) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

Zeitgeist Spam: “Shell knew about climate threat decades ago” (reposted from Climate and Capitalism) [JBR Note: they knew long before the 80s, but at least there’s this paper trail]

Source: Zeitgeist Spam: “Shell knew about climate threat decades ago” (reposted from Climate and Capitalism) [JBR Note: they knew long before the 80s, but at least there’s this paper trail]

Shell by 高橋新吉 Takahashi Shinkichi (1901-1987)

Shell

Nothing, nothing at all
is born,
dies, the shell says again
and again
from the depth of hollowness.
Its body
swept off by tide—so what?
It sleeps
in sand, drying in sunlight,
bathing
in moonlight. Nothing to do
with sea
or anything else. Over
and over
it vanishes with the wave.

 

– 高橋新吉 Takahashi Shinkichi (1901-1987)
from Zen Poetry: Let the Spring Breeze Enter
Translated by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto

Zen Master 高橋新吉 Takahashi Shinkichi

Shell’s Arctic drilling plan under threat after US orders review | Business | guardian.co.uk

The Shell-owned Kulluk rig ran on the southeast shore of Sitkalidak Island about, 40 miles southwest of Kodiak City, Alaska. Photograph: AFP/Getty Images

Shell’s Arctic drilling plan under threat after US orders review | Business | guardian.co.uk.

Corona by Paul Celan, Michael Hamburger, translator

Corona

Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk:
then time returns to the shell.

 

In the mirror it's Sunday,
in dream there is room for sleeping,
our mouths speak the truth.

 

My eye moves down to the sex of my loved one:
we look at each other,
we exchange dark words,
we love each other like poppy and recollection,
we sleep like wine in the conches,
like the sea in the moon's blood ray.

 

We stand by the window embracing, and people look up 
  from the street:
it is time they knew!
It is time the stone made an effort to flower,
time unrest had a beating heart.
It is time it were time.

It is time.

Paul Celan
Michael Hamburger, trans.

Vija Celmins / “New Paintings, Objects, and Prints” — McKee Gallery

"Shell"

new Vija Celmins Exhibition — The New York Times