Posts Tagged ‘ winter ’
灰皿に小さな焚火して人恋ふ 原子公平
haizara ni chiisana takibi shite hito kou
making a small bonfire
on the ashtray
I long for you
Kohei Harako
from “Haiku-kai” (“Haiku World,” a monthly haiku magazine, July 2017 Issue, Bungaku No Mori, Tokyo
Fay’s Note: Kohei Harako (1919-2004) ‘takibi’ (bonfire) is a winter kigo
Fay Aoyagi, translator …
Source: Today’s Haiku (February 6, 2020) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)
人のこゑ人を呼ぶこゑ山眠る 菅野孝夫
hito no koe hito o yobu koe yama nemuru
someone’s voice
a voice to call someone…
a mountain sleeps
Takao Sugano
from ‘Haidan,’ (‘Haiku Stage’) a monthly haiku magazine, March 2017 Issue, Honami Shoten, Tokyo
Fay Aoyagi, translation. Fay’s Note: ‘yama nemuru’ (a mountain sleeps) is a winter kigo
人が怖くて冬のブランコ漕ぎにゆく 叶 万里子
hito ga kowakute fuyu no buranko kogini yuku
I am afraid of people
And I go out to push
a winter swing
Mariko Kano
translation by Fay Aoyagi
from “Haiku-kai” (“Haiku World,” a monthly haiku magazine), February 2017 Issue, Bungaku No Mori, Tokyo
…
Source: Today’s Haiku (January 16, 2020) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)
digital still, from Tea in the Dark (winter solstice), 002019
Source: Tilting towards Change: Winter Solstice (Tea in the Dark #2) | FOP
Winter Prayers
Icicles that trapped the crow’s voice for weeks
have melted to nothing.
Two crows exchange oaks, scan the horizon.
Their eyes promise a night without stars.
My god is a half-filled cup of cold coffee.
If I call home, will I answer the phone?
My god is a buzzing fluorescent light.
If I answer, what will I say?
My god is a rag of meat grease.
Will I tell myself anything that might help?
My god is the sound of a refrigerator, humming.
I hang up before it’s too late.
III. Terce: Running the Cash Register
All the students are happy, talking,
heading home for Christmas.
Some won’t make it back, will find themselves
years from now on a freeway ramp
south of Chicago, watching snow fall, nothing
but snow in their pockets.
Crows will follow them wherever they go.
An old man steps carefully down the ice-sidewalk.
His skinny, brittle legs know
that everything in his briefcase doesn’t matter.
How do I know he won’t make it through the winter?
Another year ends
and what have I accomplished?
A solitary crow follows me home
with his stone-breaking call.
Old bread and bottles wash up from melting snow.
The bitter last meal of those
who believe you can always start over.
If you can, you’re an endless beginner.
If you can’t, you’re an endless fool.
Orange light through fog.
Streets quiet as blood
through the veins.
– Christien Gholson
Source: noise & silence: Winter Prayers
淋しくて海へと急ぐ冬の川 心道嶺美
sabishikute umi e to isogu fuyu no kawa
being sad
the winter river hurries
to the sea
Reimi Shindo
translation by Fay Aoyagi
from ‘Haidan,’ (‘Haiku Stage’) a monthly haiku magazine, February 2016 issue, Honami Shoten, Tokyo
Source: Today’s Haiku (February 22, 2019) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)
by D. H. Lawrence
Because of the silent snow, we are all hushed
Into awe.
No sound of guns, nor overhead no rushed
Vibration to draw
Our attention out of the void wherein we are crushed.
A crow floats past on level wings
Noiselessly.
Uninterrupted silence swings
Invisibly, inaudibly
To and fro in our misgivings.
We do not look at each other, we hide
Our daunted eyes.
White earth, and ruins, ourselves, and nothing beside.
It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.
We are folded together, men and the snowy ground
Into nullity.
There is silence, only the silence, never a sound
Nor a verity
To assist us; disastrously silence-bound!
