Tag Archives: literature

“A Shropshire Lad XXXVI” by A. E. Housman [w/ Audio]

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White in the moon the long road lies,
   The moon stands blank above;
 White in the moon the long road lies
   That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
   Still, still the shadows stay:
 My feet upon the moonlit dust
   Pursue the ceaseless way.

The world is round, so travellers tell,
   And straight though reach the track,
 Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,
   The way will guide one back.

But ere the circle homeward hies,
   Far, far must it remove:
 White in the moon the long road lies
   That leads me from my love.

NOTE: This poem is sometimes titled by its first line or an abbreviated form, thereof. So, it’s sometimes called: “White in the Moon the Long Road Lies.”

“First Fig” by Edna St. Vincent Millay [w/ Audio]

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My candle burns at both ends;
 It will not last the night;
 But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
 It gives a lovely light!

“In the Desert” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

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In the desert
 I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
 Who, squatting upon the ground,
 Held his heart in his hands,
 And ate of it.
 I said, "Is it good, friend?"
 "It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;

"But I like it
 "Because it is bitter,
 "And because it is my heart."

“West River Moon” by Su Shi [w/ Audio]

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Wavelet on wavelet glimmers by the shore;
 Cloud on cloud dimly appears in the sky.
 Unsaddled is my white-jadelike horse;
 Drunk, asleep in the sweet grass I'll lie.
 My horse's hoofs may break, I'm afraid,
 The breeze-rippled brook paved by moonlit jade.
 I tether my horse to a bough of green willow.
 Near the bridge where I pillow
 My head on arms and sleep till the cuckoo's song awakes
  A spring daybreak.

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p. 238

Four Seasonal Haiku of Yosa Buson [w/ Audio]

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SPRING*

The spring sea;
 gently, quietly, 
 all day long.

SUMMER

what a joy!
 wading through summer rivers,
 sandals in hand.

AUTUMN

vacant teahouse,
 atop the mountain:
 a harvest moon.

WINTER

neighbors detest me
 for my whistling kettle:
 a cold winter night.

* Translation by: Wilson, William Scott. 2023. A Beginner’s Guide to Japanese Haiku. Tuttle Publishing: North Clarendon, VT.

“Jerusalem” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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And did those feet in ancient time
 Walk upon England's mountains green?
 And was the holy Lamb of God
 On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
 Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
 And was Jerusalem builded here
 Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
 Bring me my Arrows of desire:
 Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
 Bring me Chariot of fire.

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
 Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
 Till we have built Jerusalem
 In England's green and pleasant Land.

“The Gardener – 85” by Rabindranath Tagore [w/ Audio]

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Who are you, reader, reading my poems my poems an hundred years hence?
 I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, 
  one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
 Open your doors and look abroad.

From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories 
  of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
 In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning,
  sending its glad voice across an hundred years.

BOOKS: “Hōjōki” by Kamo no Chōmei; Trans. by Matthew Stavros

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Hojoki: A Buddhist Reflection on Solitude: Imperfection and Transcendence - Bilingual English and Japanese Texts with Free Online Audio RecordingsHojoki: A Buddhist Reflection on Solitude: Imperfection and Transcendence – Bilingual English and Japanese Texts with Free Online Audio Recordings by Kamo no Chōmei
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

Release Date: May 7, 2024 [for Tuttle’s bilingual edition]

This is the Japanese Walden, except that it was written several hundred years before Thoreau’s essay and was predominantly philosophically informed by Buddhism rather than Transcendentalism. (Though those philosophical systems do agree on a number of points, most relevantly that materialism is not a sound route to happiness.) Like Walden, Hōjōki is an autobiographical promotion of the hermitic lifestyle. Both works sing the virtues of life in a simple, rustic cabin in a natural setting, a life of minimalism and subsistence living.

There are many translations of this work available, and so I’ll spend the remainder of this review on what differentiates this edition from the two others that I’ve read. First and foremost, the other versions I’m familiar with were presented as prose essays. This edition is presented in verse, which I understand to be the form that the original Japanese work employed. I should say that in some places the work comes across as poetic in the conventional sense, though in others it seems like a versified essay.

Secondly, this edition has a few handy ancillary features. One is that it is bilingual. Romanized Japanese allows the reader to experience the sound quality of the original. This edition also has graphics in the form of maps, artwork, and photographs. Some of the graphics support or expand upon the information delivery while others seem to be more a matter of creating atmospherics. Also, there are explanatory endnotes that help readers unacquainted with Kamakura Period Japan to understand some of the book’s references that might otherwise remain unclear.

I enjoyed and benefited from reading this edition, even having read others. If you are looking for insight into the ascetic life, I’d highly recommend it.

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“On His Blindness” by John Milton [w/ Audio]

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When I consider how my light is spent,
 Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
 And that one Talent which is death to hide
 Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present
 My true account, lest he returning chide,
 "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
 I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
 That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
 Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His State
 Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
 And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest:
 They also serve who only stand and wait."

NOTE: This poem is sometimes called “Sonnet 19,” sometimes “On His Blindness,” and sometimes “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent.”

“Rooms” by Charlotte Mew [w/ Audio]

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I remember rooms that have had their part
  In the steady slowing down of the heart.
 The room in Paris, the room at Geneva,
 The little damp room with the seaweed smell,
 And that ceaseless maddening sound of the tide --
  Rooms where for good or for ill -- things died.
 But there is the room where we (two) lie dead,
 Though every morning we seem to wake and might just as well seem to sleep again
  As we shall somewhere in the other quieter, dustier bed
  Out there in the sun -- in the rain.