beside the trail:
a trampled dandelion
springs back, slowly.
Trampled [Haiku]
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Tag Archives: Spring
Early Spring [Haiku]
lake shimmer;
Spring sneaks in early --
trees still bare.
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Livestock Rush Hour [Haiku]
horde of livestock
sprawls puddle-strewn lane
between downpours.
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Turbulent [Haiku]
“The Human Seasons” by John Keats [w/ Audio]
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.
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“Spring Dawn” (春曉) by Meng Haoran [w/ Audio]
My Spring sleep is unswayed by dawn --
Though birds are heard through screen, still drawn.
Recalling night sounds of rain and wind,
I wonder how the flowers have thinned?
Original in Chinese:
春眠不覺曉，
處處聞啼鳥。
夜來風雨聲，
花落知多少。
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“Above the blossoms sing the orioles” by Han-Shan [w/ Audio]
Above the blossoms sing the orioles:
Kuan kuan, their clear notes.
The girl with a face like jade
Strums to them on her lute.
Never does she tire of playing --
Youth is the time for tender thoughts.
When the flowers scatter and the birds fly off
Her tears will fall in the spring wind.
Translated of Burton Watson in: Cold Mountain: 100 poems by the T’ang poet Han-Shan, New York: Columbia University Press, p. 22
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Cliff’s Edge Poppy [Haiku]
at cliff's edge,
the swaying red poppy,
lures one closer.
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DAILY PHOTO: South Armenian Landscapes
“Spring Rise” by Fan Chengda [w/ Audio]
In Spring, the waters rise --
Shore grass sways with breezes,
And geese drift right beside;
Boats glide as the stream pleases.
Yon pagoda looks far,
but feels quite close.
Streamside, one feels a chill.
Fields have yet to be plowed --
Not while the torrents spill.
Mulberry limbs are bowed.
Soon we'll have a taste,
and harvest cocoons.
NOTE: The title of this poem is 蝶 戀 花. Xu Yuanchong uses the quite literal “Butterflies in Love with Flowers” as his translated title. I chose differently because a wet Spring is the throughline of the poem and, well, there are no explicit butterflies (or flowers) in the poem [only their potential.] Of course, maybe that’s exactly why the original is a great title.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 