Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Heraclitus, spendthrift flitter,
met his sister's baby sitter,
titty Kitty Heraclita,
title tailor made to fit ‘er.
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May roses still bloom
when tomorrow sighs no more
over today's tomb
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Each word's world spells cage,
with all its peoples temporary strayers:
their exits sure, with slight trust in re-entrances,
each pouts, reels out doubt life by fits and starts:
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Man thinks 'I AM because I, man, do rule'
woman links through 'sharing tools' one school
is based on networks, t'other, baseless would
irk, jerk work's nets, ease seize, she sees Time's fool!
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My name Amphora, by life's teeming beach
Am for her waiting. Open sesame!
Unlocked am I allowing her to reach
Deep down to taste stored serendipity.
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Families, when a child is born, want it to be intelligent.I through intelligence, have wrecked my whole life.Only hope the baby will prove ignorant and stupid.Then he will crown a tranquil life by becoming a Cabinet Minister.
Su Tung-p'o translation: Arthur Waley

On the Birth of his Son I
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Heureux qui, tel Poulet, a fait un beau voyage
ou comme qui la ligne étroite et blanche passe
sans rire jaune aux oeufs bonnes que pour la casse,
retourne à ses parents pour pondre jusqu'à l'âge!
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Jack frost's cold core shall surely thaw away!
Bask maskless steer reflections from today
to find way which both mends, ends compromise,
remaining optimistic come what may.
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Poetic inspiration can't run dry,
expectations entertains, cannot
live in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
dividing consciousness from inner eye.
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