Elegy to the Old Man Hokuju
You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a
thousand pieces.
Why is it so far away?
Thinking of you, I go up on the hill and wander.
Around the hill, why is it such a sadness?
Dandelions yellow and shepherds-purse blooming white --
not anyone to look at them.
I hear a pheasant, calling and calling fervently.
Once a friend was there across the river, living.
Ghostly smoke rises and fades away with a west wind
strong in fields of small bamboo grasses and reedy fields.
Nowhere to leave for.
Once a friend was there across the river, living, but today
not even a bird sings a song.
You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a
thousand pieces.
Why is it so far away?
In my grass hut by the Amida image I light no candle,
offer no flowers, and only sit here alone.
This evening, how invaluable it is.
Priest Buson
with a thousand bowings
poem by Yosa Buson
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Related quotes
10,000 Men
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Some of m goin down, some of m gonna get killed.
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Drummin in the morning, in the evening theyll be coming for you.
Ten thousand men on the move,
Ten thousand men on the move,
None of them doing nothin that your mama wouldnt disapprove.
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
All clean shaven, all coming in from the cold.
Hey! who could your lover be?
Hey! who could your lover be?
Let me eat off his head so you can really see!
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Standin at my window wishing me goodnight.
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Each one of em got seven wives, each one of em just out of jail.
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Spilling my buttermilk, sweeping it up will a broom.
Ooh, baby, thank you for my tea!
Baby, thank you for my tea!
Its so sweet of you to be so nice to me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart In Pieces
Only you can touch me with your dark eyes
With a look that burns like fire through the lonely night.
Sometimes I run, but I can never hide
From the pieces of my heart that fall like rain from the sky.
When you hear the thunder,
When you hear the sound of a mountain crashing down,
Its just my heart in pieces.
When I feel the hunger,
When Im reaching out with a hundred thousand hands,
Its my heart in pieces.
No one cuts through my soul like you can.
Im naked to the bone beside your empty hand.
I see your face and I remember.
Im a prisoner of your fate,
Im a loser in the race.
When you hear the thunder,
When you hear the sounds of a mountain crashing down,
Its just my heart in pieces.
When I feel the hunger,
When Im reaching out with a hundred thousand hands,
Its my heart in pieces.
I walk the fine line
Between fire and the ice.
The memory lives on.
Theres always something to remind me.
Every teardrop falling
When your voice keeps calling.
[chorus repeats until fade.]
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chiang Chin Chiu
See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror
in the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks - In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys
of life as they come and use them to the full; Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon. The things that Heaven made
Man was meant to use; A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again. Roast mutton and sliced beef will only
taste well If you drink with them at one sitting three hundred cups. Great Master Ts'êen, Doctor Tan-ch'iu, Here is wine, do not
stop drinking But listen, please, and I will sing you a song. Bells and drums and fine food, what are they to me Who only want
to get drunk and never again be sober? The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still, Only the might drinkers of wine
have left a name behind. When the prince of Ch'êen gave a feast in the Palace of P'ing-lo With twenty thousand gallons of wine
he loosed mirth and play. The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent; Let him send to the tavern and fetch
wine to keep our tankards filled. His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat - Let him call the boy to take them along and
pawn them for good wine, That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand years.
The Pheasant's Nest
On a warm evening on the second day of July
As I walked through the high grass upwards a bird did fly
A bantam sized mottled brown bird with low and short quick flight
Beyond the hedge she disappeared from sight.
There at my feet amongst the high grass as I looked down
In her simple nest her ten eggs of greeny brown
I dared not touch them on them only gazed
At such a thing of Natural beauty quite amazed.
By chance alone the hen pheasant's nest I'd found
Since I had walked the fields for miles around
And only once see a pheasant with her young they flew away
And amongst the high grass hidden they did stay.
A school friend of mine once raised pheasants in an outdoor cage
And he sold them to a gun club at their adult stage
The gun club in late September set them free
At the time of wild pheasants a scarcity.
I still recall that evening in July
The mottled pheasant from her nest did fly
And I was eight and of Nature little did know
And that was more than fifty years ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The River Sings
The river sings
A voice rises above
Fairer than the water, rings
I know you well
For the river has told
All there is to tell
It sung of a maiden
Fair as the water’s song
Her heart heavy laden
Though she sang
Her song was sorrowed
In voice the sadness rang
No words were needed
The river knew
Her voice it heeded
She walked alone
Her gaiety was lost
River, her only home
She listened to the water
Telling a story
Calling her River Daughter
The river sang, through day and night
Sang for her, the only listener
She joined the song, through dark and light
She called to her lover
Come free me!
Called with song and river
poem by Rachel Harris
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Funny How It Fades Away
Those days when our hearts were as big as the sun
Turn around with a smile for everyone
That feelings a memory
Funny how it fades away
You wont see those pale grays returning to blues
The colors will wash out as I shrink in my shoes
And I wont always live and breathe
Watch me as I fade away
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
Who on this planet would ever refuse
The chance of a lifetime to love and lose
When time is of no importance
Have you seen it slip away?
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
We wake in the morning and work all day
We dress up in the evening with nothing to say
Just like a candle burning bright
Burning like forever then it fades away
song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dig Love
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
I love dig
I love dig
I love dig
Hm, I love dig in the morning
I love dig every evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Small love, big love, I dont care
Loves all good love to me
Left love, right love, anywhere love
Theres a rare love, come on and get it, its free
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Bought love, short love, in any port
Loves always there to see
Make love, take love, but you should give love
And try to live love, come on thats where you should be
I dig love
I dig love
I dig love
Hm, I dig love in the morning
I dig love in the evening
I dig love and I want you to know I dig love
Yes, I want you to know I dig love
Yes, I want you to know I dig love
To know I dig love
Yes, I do
I dig love (repeat and fade)
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hokku Poems in Four Seasons
Spring
The year's first poem done,
with smug self confidence
a haikai poet.
Longer has become the daytime;
a pheasant is fluttering
down onto the bridge.
Yearning for the Bygones
Lengthening days,
accumulating, and recalling
the days of distant past.
Slowly passing days,
with an echo heard here in a
corner of Kyoto.
The white elbow
of a priest, dozing,
in the dusk of spring.
Into a nobleman,
a fox has changed himself
early evening of spring.
The light on a candle stand
is transferred to another candle
spring twilight.
A short nap,
then awakening
this spring day has darkened.
Who is it for,
this pillow on the floor,
in the twilight of spring?
The big gateway's heavy doors,
standing in the dusk of spring.
Hazy moonlight --
someone is standing
among the pear trees.
Blossoms on the pear tree,
lighten by the moonlight, and there
a woman is reading a letter.
Springtime rain -- almost dark,
and yet today still lingers.
Springtime rain --
a little shell on a small beach,
enough to moisten it.
Springtime rain is falling,
as a child's rag ball is soaking
wet on the house roof.
@Summer
Within the quietness
of a lull in visitors' absence,
appears the peony flower!
Peony having scattered, two
or three petals lie on one another.
The rain of May --
facing toward the big river, houses,
just two of them.
At a Place Called Kaya in Tanba
A summer river being crossed,
how pleasing,
with sandals in my hands!
The mountain stonecutter's chisel;
being cooled in the clear water.
Grasses wet in the rain,
just after the festival cart passed by.
To my eyes how delightful
the fan of my beloved is,
in complete white.
A flying cuckoo,
over the Heian capital,
goes diagonally across the city.
Evening breeze --
water is slapping against
the legs of a blue heron.
An old well --
jumping at a mosquito,
the fish's sound is dark.
Young bamboo trees --
at Hashimoto, the courtesan,
is she still there or not?
After having been fallen,
its image still stands --
the peony flower.
Stepping on the Eastern Slope
Wild roses in bloom --
so like a pathway in,
or toward, my home village.
With sorrow while coming upon the hill
--flowering wild roses.
Summer night ending so soon,
with on the river shallows still remains
the moon in a sliver.
@Autumn
It penetrates into me;
stepping on the comb of my gone wife,
in the bedroom.
More than last year,
I now feel solitude;
this autumn twilight.
This being alone may even be a kind of happy
-- in the autumn dusk.
Moon in the sky's top,
clearly passes through this
poor town street.
This feeling of sadness --
a fishing string being blown by the autumn wind.
@Winter
Let myself go to bed;
New Year's Day is only a matter
for tomorrow.
Camphor tree roots are quietly getting wet,
in the winter rainy air.
A handsaw is sounding,
as if from a poor one,
at midnight in this winter.
Old man's love affair;
in trying to forget it,
a winter rainfall.
In an old pond,
a straw sandal is sinking
-- it is sleeting.
poem by Yosa Buson
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Lady Magdalene
The man on the right is a man undone
he'd give you his soul if you asked him
for some.
A child in his way for he needs to believe
that love is a song
for each man to sing.
The man on the left is a prize unwon
a candle
unlit and a song unsung.
Believing that love is a dreamer's dream,
the man
on the left the me in between.
Lady Magdelene, I can hear your distant
trumpet
calling from the morning mountain,
singing to the passing river.
Take me home, show me peaceful days before my youth has gone.
The man
in between waits between the two
not hearing the lie and not seeing the
true.
Unknowing what is and denying what seems
and there he will sleep the
man in between.
Lady Magdelene, I can hear your distant
trumpet
calling from the morning mountain,
singing to the passing
river.
Take me home, show me peaceful days before my youth has
gone.
Lady Magdelene, make the sound of silent thunder
calling from
the lips of Abraham
make a sound that we may wonder, where we are.
Take us
to you soul for we have wandered far.
The man on the right was a man
undone
the man on the left like a prize unwon.
And God only knows what
their time will bring
or what will become of the man in between.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Magdelene
Words and music by neil diamond
The man on the right is a man undone
Hed give you his soul if you asked him for some.
A child in his way for he needs to believe
That love is a song for each man to sing.
The man on the left is a prize unwon
A candle unlit and a song unsung.
Believing that love is a dreamers dream,
The man on the left the me in between.
Lady magdelene, I can hear your distant trumpet
Calling from the morning mountain,
Singing to the passing river.
Take me home, show me peaceful days before my youth has gone.
The man in between waits between the two
Not hearing the lie and not seeing the true.
Unknowing what is and denying what seems
And there he will sleep the man in between.
Lady magdelene, I can hear your distant trumpet
Calling from the morning mountain,
Singing to the passing river.
Take me home, show me peaceful days before my youth has gone.
Lady magdelene, make the sound of silent thunder
Calling from the lips of abraham
Make a sound that we may wonder, where we are.
Take us to you soul for we have wandered far.
The man on the right was a man undone
The man on the left like a prize unwon.
And God only knows what their time will bring
Or what will become of the man in between.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Love XXXII (Okie the zen golden retreiver)
Evening star gives eternal kisses of fireflies
to the dark face of the moon
the joyful moon cracks an ocher grin
and falls in love with a reflection
on the green river
the red tails of dancing fireflies
escape from the moon's mouth
into the adoration
Racoons take off their masks
preparing for bed
the river politely refuses
to carry the lunar mirror
leaves it at the waterfall's door
who returns it to the evening star
during the moon's void
a mocking bird awakens the meditating trees
the rocks hidden under the falls miss the sun
the sun's lover lives an hour of light years away
the lunar grin, reflection, evening star
seek hiding places from the dawn
the sudden stillness gives birth
to thousand of mohican souls
who dance in concentric circles
while running down whitmore falls
the evening star ashamed of history
fades into the blue
the moon finds great happiness
in disappearing
the unseen ocean opens arms
and awaits the moon's image
arias of water sing
eternal mantras
where mind's heart dances
joyous silence of a single note
a breath whispering by
between the longing of the ocean
and the moon's love of infinite reflections
and the adoring evening star
an open window creates a wall
of antigue white and mauve moths
as a golden retreiver leaps from a black rock
chasing a teasing blue heron who flies
up over black trees into the bend of the river
creating dawn, as the golden bellyflops laughing
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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Once In The Morning
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Just once in the morning
Once in the evening
Just once in the morning
Once in the evening
Ooh, baby
Just once in the morning
Once in the evening
Once in the morning
Once in the evening
Thatll be enough
Thatll be enough of your good good lovin stuff
Thatll be enough
Ooh yeah
Take away the yearning
Take away the burning
Baby, baby
Just once in the morning
Once in the evening
Just once in the morning
Once in the evening
Its not all youre thinking
I promise you well make it, very hard
Our love has to do with
Your conditions as to how and would we start
Its gotta be once in the morning
Once in the evening
Once in the morning
Once in the evening
Thatll be enough
Thatll be enough of your good good lovin stuff
Thatll be enough
Thatll be enough
Take away the yearning
Take away the burning
Baby, baby
Just once
Yeah
Ooh...
Its seven when I rise
Eleven, close my eyes
Its seven when I rise
Eleven, close my eyes
I want you to be, be, be there
I want you to be, be, be there
Be there
Seven when I rise
Eleven, close my eyes
I promised that Ill be
Good enough for me
Once, once in the evening
Thatll be enough
Once in the morning
Once in the evening
Thatll be enough
Once in the morning
Once in the evening
Give it to me
Give it to me
Once in the morning
Once in the evening
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In a Country
My love and I are inventing a country, which we
can already see taking shape, as if wheels were
passing through yellow mud. But there is a prob-
lem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw
and begin flooding. If we put the river on the bor-
der, there will be trouble. If we forget about the
river, there will be no way out. There is already a
sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke.
Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more
trees fill with their eyes, and what they see we can
never erase.
One day it was snowing heavily, and again we were
lying in bed, watching our country: we could
make out the wide river for the first time, blue and
moving. We seemed to be getting closer; we saw
our wheel tracks leading into it and curving out
of sight behind us. It looked like the land we had
left, some smoke in the distance, but I wasn't sure.
There were birds calling. The creaking of our
wheels. And as we entered that country, it felt as if
someone was touching our bare shoulders, lightly,
for the last time.
poem by Larry Levis
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Calling America
(somebody...)
Told her that there was a place like heaven
Across the water on a 747
Yeah, were living in
In a modern world.
And pretty soon shes really got the notion
Of flying out across the big blue ocean
Yeah, were living in
In a modern world.
Talk is cheap on satellite
But all I get is (static!)
Information, Im still here
Re-dial on automatic.
Chorus:
Calling america (cant get a message through)
Calling america (thats what she said to do)
Calling america (thats where she has to be)
Calling america (she left a number for me)
Calling america.
But Im just talking to a satellite
Twenty thousand miles up in the sky each night
Yeah, were living in
In a modern world.
All I had to do was pick up the phone
Im out in space, trying to talk to someone
Yeah, were living in
In a modern world.
She left a number I could call
But no ones there, no one at all
There must be something going wrong
That number just rings on and on.
Repeat chorus
Said shed call when shed been gone a while
Guess shes missing me across the miles
Yeah, were living in
In a modern world.
Repeat chorus
Calling america, calling america
Calling america, calling america...
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The cycle of day and night
When chirping of birds reaches my ear,
When the call of the caller
Does the heart tear,
When the rippling of the river do I hear,
I smile and thank Him
For the beautiful morning.
When the sun travels towards the west,
When evening bares her dark breast,
When fog descends on
the snowy crest,
I smile and thank Him
For the graceful decline.
When sky is filled with blinking light,
When evening leaves for the drowsy night,
When stillness enhances night delight.
I smile and thank Him
For the meaningful dark
For after every night
It is morning again.
Thus the cycle continues
Till the time unknown.
Note: Call of the caller-Muazzin who calls azaan before salaat.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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I like the evening in India, the one magic moment when the sun balances on the rim of the world, and the hush descends, and ten thousand civil servants drift homeward on a river of bicycles, brooding on the Lord Krishna and the cost of living.
quote by James Cameron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Days Get Long
I
When summer days get extremely long
the sky becomes a much deeper hue,
a myriad of birds fill the cobalt blue,
constantly singing their gorgeous song
it is as if everything do belong
to the coming spring, are singing true
like some beautiful birds and insects do,
while colourful swarming in their great throng
over the gentle meadow and the valley
filling the tranquil grey evening sky
softly singing a sweet kind of medley
while in jubilance they still do fly
over fields of hay and fields of barley,
sunny day after sunny day pass by.
II
Sunny day after sunny day pass by
with almost a kind of smothering heat
the fields, the open veldt and dirt road lie
far to hot to tread with just bare feet.
Everything shimmers, the poplars that rears
like huge fingers pointing to the sun,
massive broad oak trees of many years
and grass and flowers where life has just begun
glitters in a new emerald green sheen,
the wind rustles things touching one by one
as if finding things where there had not been,
between huge black boulders rocks and stone
the sun blazes on every day the same,
I see the sun making wings of hot flame.
III
I see the sun making wings of hot flame
on the few white clouds in dazzling colours
and in the west there are some small wild game
drinking water while the evening hours
brings the white and blue stars out dazzling clear
with night predators in the pitch black sky
and some more wild game are drawing near,
I hear the hyenas laughing, wild dogs cry,
the growls of lions, the howling of jackals,
I get the smells of the earth and the bush,
I hear some leopards growling, their calls
that are where they are lying in ambush,
at night the predators are hunting prey,
making a living in the dying day.
IV
Making a living in the dying day
swarms of birds fly calling with flapping wings
poplars, cedars and many trees do sway
while the twilight is grey, full of life, brings
as if by some magic, all at play
flying leaves, bats insects and flying things
with a few that lonesome away stray,
most are flying to nests in trees that swings
and eventually places of rest receives
the many small things that are fluttering,
the wind settles among the moving leaves,
the numerous evening birds start to sing
until the full moon shines its silver rays,
when night fades slowly as on other days.
V
When night fades slowly as on other days,
man is still bound by nature and destiny
to the world in which he works and plays
as it probably will be to eternity.
The yellow sun, the cobalt blue heaven
is like it has been from its very birth
with its joyous bright splendour even
like any other day upon this earth
but a time will come when man will be free
from all death and all kinds of destruction
from heartache, the sorrows that he see
with a new amazing introduction
to a place that’s holy, pure and bright;
now suddenly it is silver twilight.
VI
Now suddenly it is silver twilight
and the sheer darkness of night flees away
before the coming new breaking day
with the blazing sheer redness of sunlight
constantly reflecting against the bright
unclouded sky open in its solid grey
with the red blossoming as if its to stay
and in the veldt guinea fowl flees in fright
while a small jackal laughs out its delight
and the few milling dark clouds do stray
before a strong wind as if in spite
and through bushes and grass rocking it plays
churning up eddies before going out of sight
while the hot sun rises with its golden rays.
VII
While the hot sun rises with its golden rays,
you come from a country where rivers meander
where the rain sieves down for many days
where some beautiful wild birds do wander
in lush overgrown tranquil water-meadows,
far away from the busy big city,
filled with thick green living hedgerows
where many bright wild flowers are pretty
but I still do wonder what you will see
in a land where vicious savage beasts
have no civility and do roam free
where the natives have very weird feasts,
where the flaming sun does spare no one,
when summer days get extremely long.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Half an hour in a spring evening is worth a thousand gold pieces.
Gentle Winds
Green fields edged with hedgerows,
Wild flowers enticing the bees,
Yellow buttercups and daisies,
Undulate in the evening breeze.
Small shrubs and dark dense thickets,
Trees so tall, with branches stout,
Even they can move with alacrity,
When the air currents are about.
These gentle winds are refreshing,
And stir all nature's wondrous art,
They cool the heat of the evening,
And calm the beat of the heart.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Before the Battle
Music of whispering trees
Hushed by a broad-winged breeze
Where shaken water gleams;
And evening radiance falling
With reedy bird-notes calling.
O bear me safe through dark, you low-voiced streams.
I have no need to pray
That fear may pass away;
I scorn the growl and rumble of the fight
That summons me from cool
Silence of marsh and pool
And yellow lilies is landed in light
O river of stars and shadows, lead me through the night.
June 25th, 1916.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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