Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

1

Lord of new arrivals
lovers and rivals:
arrive
at once with cockfight and banner—
dance till on this and the next three
hills

women's hands and the garlands
on the chests of men will turn like
chariotwheels

O where are the cockscombs and where
the beaks glinting with new knives
at crossroads

when will orange banners burn
among blue trumpet flowers and the shade
of trees

waiting for lightnings?

2

Twelve etched arrowheads
for eyes and six unforeseen
faces, and you were not
embarrassed.


...

I came to you one rainless August night.
You taught me how to live without the rain.
You are thirst and thirst is all I know.
You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky,
The hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand
Your breath into my mouth. You reach—then bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
You wrap your name tight around my ribs
And keep me warm. I was born for you.
Above, below, by you, by you surrounded.

...

Half-shaded in the afternoon
The marbled floor smudged
By the acacia shadow
Awaits the summer breeze
Slowly winding through the twigs
Swishing the dead yellow leaves
Prostrate on the floor
Silence sweeps the yard
With force of a hurricane
Trees answer in monosyllables

...

Mes de rosas. Van mis rimas
en ronda a la vasta selva
a recoger miel y aromas
en las flores entreabiertas.
Amada, ven. El gran bosque
es nuestro templo; allí ondea
y flota un santo perfume
de amor. El pájaro vuela
de un árbol a otro y saluda
tu frente rosada y bella
como un alba; y las encinas
robustas, altas, soberbias,
cuando tú pasas agitan
sus hojas verdes y trémulas,
y enarcan sus ramas como
para que pase una reina.
¡Oh, amada mía! Es el dulce
tiempo de la primavera.

Allá hay una clara fuente
que brota de una caverna,
donde se bañan desnudas
las blancas ninfas que juegan.
Ríen al son de la espuma,
hienden la linfa serena;
entre polvo cristalino
esponjan sus cabelleras;
y saben himnos de amores
en hermosa lengua griega,
que en glorioso tiempo antiguo

...

A touch of cold in the Autumn night --

I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.
...

I went to take a stroll in the Garden of Love to-day -
My Love's singing birds came to sing for me...
...under the cool shade of chinār-tree,
And swarms of honey-bees flitted across the garden,
As all the flowers were calling them...
...for taking nectar from their cups,
And the fragrant breeze went singing over the garden,
Tossing the flowers to and fro...
... making them send out fragrance more and more,
And a rainbow held out its shining sword over my head...

...

A sea of foliage girds our garden round,
But not a sea of dull unvaried green,
Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen;
The light-green graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the mango clumps of green profound,
And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;
And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,
Red-red, and startling like a trumpet's sound.
But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges
Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon
Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes
Into a cup of silver. One might swoon
Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze
On a primeval Eden, in amaze.
...

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

...

I dreamed of purple
all through last night's sable hours
in a sunset world

lilacs danced the dusk
underneath plum colored skies
in the sun's shadow

purple martin songs
from beauty birds on a wing

...