Tag Archives: Death

“With a Clean Heart” (Tiszta szívvel) by József Attila [w/ Audio]

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Have no mother, have no dad,
 have no country, have no God,
 no cradle, no winding sheet,
 no lover, no kisses sweet.

Haven't eaten for three days,
 my head spins, the body sways...
 Twenty years! My might, my gale,
 twenty years are now for sale.

If there is no customer,
 sell it to Devil in hell.
 With a clean heart, I will steal,
 If need be, I'll even kill.

They'll catch me and hang me up,
 with soft earth cover me up,
 and death-bringing grass will start
 from my beautiful, clean heart.

Translation by Frank Veszely in Hungarian Poetry: One Thousand Years (2023) Altona, Manitoba: Friesen Press, pp. 156-157.

NOTE: This poem got Attila expelled from university and preemptively scuttled any possibility of a career in academia. (Hence, my affinity for it. Any poetry that extracts such a cost is probably excellent poetry.)

Gnarled [Free Verse]

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Mostly, the dead decay:
   they crumble
   or rot to goo.

But some trees
   turn steely
   hard & smooth --
 fibers showing like
   rigid sinews.

Bare of bark and leaves
   and flowers,
 but unyielding of
   girth and substance.

But even those trees
   give way --
 perhaps in geologic time
 rather than biologic time,

But still the tree will become
   someone & something else.

Schrödinger’s Dragonfly [Haiku]

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dragonfly,
 cool autumn morn:
  dead or in thaw?

“Before I got my eye put out –” (336) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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Before I got my eye put out --
   I liked as well to see
 As other creatures, that have eyes --
   And know no other way --

But were it told to me, Today,
   That I might have the Sky
 For mine, I tell you that my Heart
   Would split, for size of me --

The Meadows -- mine --
 The Mountains -- mine --
 All Forests -- Stintless stars --
 As much of noon, as I could take --
 Between my finite eyes --

The Motions of the Dipping Birds --
   The Morning's Amber Road --
 For mine -- to look at when I liked,
   The news would strike me dead --

So safer -- guess -- with just my soul
   Opon the window pane
 Where other creatures put their eyes --
   Incautious -- of the Sun --

“Mezzo Cammin” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]

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Half of my life is gone, and I have let
   The years slip from me and have not
      fulfilled
   The aspiration of my youth, to build
   Some tower of song with lofty parapet.
 Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret
   Of restless passions that would not be
      stilled,
   But sorrow, and a care that almost killed,
   Kept me from what I may accomplish yet;
 Though, half-way up the hill, I see the Past
   Lying beneath me with its sounds and
      sights, --
   A city in the twilight dim and vast,
 With smoking roofs, soft bells, and
      gleaming lights, --
   And hear above me on the autumnal blast
   The cataract of Death far thundering 
      from the heights.

BOOKS: “Essential Zen” ed. by Kazuaki Tanahashi & David Schneider

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Essential ZenEssential Zen by Kazuaki Tanahashi
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Google Books Page

This is a collection of short writings (poems, koans, and prose excerpts) on Zen Buddhism arranged into loosely themed sections. The writings tend toward the artistic, creative, and metaphorical, with relatively few straightforward descriptions of technique or philosophy. The writings range from those of Chinese and Japanese monks who lived hundreds of years ago to present-day poets and Zen practitioners. Among the more frequently drawn from sources are: Hanshan, Ikkyu, Dogen, Ryokan, Hakuin, Gary Snyder, Robert Aitken, Seung Sahn, John Daido Loori, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Peter Levitt. But there are many others, including some who have only a single piece included.

There’s a substantial “Notes” section that gives source, translation, and — in some cases — background information. Most of the translations (both Japanese and Chinese) are by the editors, Kazuaki Tanahashi and David Schneider. There are illustrations, but they are all ensō (circular brush paintings) and related forms.

This is a highly readable and insightful collection of short writings, and I’d highly recommend it for individuals interested in Zen or Eastern Philosophy more generally.

View all my reviews

Death Poem of Ikkyū [w/ Audio]

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I borrowed these one month ago, yesterday.
 I'm returning them today.
 I borrowed five and return four --
 Repaid, but for Original Emptiness.

NOTE: This is one of three Death Poems attributed to Ikkyū, supposedly the middle one.

The End [Free Verse]

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My death days --
   Strange and wondrous --
   Will come soon enough.

I can feel their thrum 
   At the edge of my mind,
   A slow and rumbling pulsation
   That signals
      The END is nigh.

I don't fear them.
   Like a rumbling freight train,
   I assume they won't plow 
   Through my front door --
   But, rather, will wait for me
   To become freight.

“The Human Seasons” by John Keats [w/ Audio]

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Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
   There are four seasons in the mind of man:
 He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
   Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
 He has his Summer, when luxuriously 
   Spring's honied cud of youthful thought
     he loves
 To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
   Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
 His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
   He furleth close; contented so to look
 On mists in idleness -- to let fair things
   Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
 He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
 Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

“Nature” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]

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As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
  Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
  Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
  And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
 Still gazing at them through the open door,
  Nor wholly reassured and comforted
  By promises of others in their stead,
  Which, though more splendid, may not
     please him more;
 So Nature deals with us, and takes away
  Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
  Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
  Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
 Being too full of sleep to understand
 How far the unknown transcends the 
     what we know.