Epigrams VA Poem by Michael R. BurchEpigrams V by Michael R. Burch Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise by Michael R. Burch I wanted to be good as gold, but being good, as I’ve been told, requires something, discipline, I simply have no interest in! Mate Check by Michael R. Burch Love is an ache hearts willingly secure then break the bank to cure. Incompatibles by Michael R. Burch Reason’s treason! cries the Heart. Love’s insane, replies the Brain. Grave Oversight by Michael R. Burch The dead are always with us, and yet they are naught! Imperfect Perfection by Michael R. Burch You’re too perfect for words― a problem for a poet. Childless by Michael R. Burch How can she bear her grief? Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight Of one fallen star. Ironic Vacation by Michael R. Burch Salzburg. Seeing Mozart’s baby grand piano. Standing in the presence of sheer incalculable genius. Grabbing my childish pen to write a poem & challenge the Immortals. Next stop, the catacombs! Expert Advice by Michael R. Burch Your breasts are perfect for your lithe, slender body. Please stop making false comparisons your hobby! The State of the Art by Michael R. Burch A poet may work from sun to sun, but his editor's work is never done. The editor’s work is never done. The critic adjusts his cummerbund. While the critic adjusts his cummerbund, the audience exits to mingle and slum. As the audience exits to mingle and slum, the anthologist rules, a pale jury of one. Blackfoot Saying
Petals I amass with such tenderness prick me to the quick. ―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Both victor and vanquished are dewdrops: flashes of light briefly illuminating the void. ―Ouchi Yoshitaka, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch Dark-bosomed clouds pregnant with heavy thunder ... the water breaks ―Michael R. Burch As I slept in isolation my desired beloved appeared to me; therefore, dreams have become my reality and consolation. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Submit to you―is that what you advise? The way the ripples do whenever ill winds arise? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sad, the end that awaits me― to think that before autumn yields I'll be a pale mist shrouding these rice fields. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Now bitterly I watch fierce winds battering the rice stalks, suspecting I'll never again find anything to harvest. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch So cruelly severed, a root-cut reed ... if the river offered, why not be freed? ―Ono no Komachi (KKS XVIII:938), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wretched water-weed that I am, severed from all roots: if rapids should entice me, why not welcome their lethal shoots? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch If fields of autumn flowers can shed their blossoms, shameless, why can't I also frolic here― as fearless, wild and blameless? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Do not ask, mariner, whose tomb this may be, but go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea. ―attributed to Plato, translated by Michael R. Burch Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell? Only the sea gull in his high, lonely circuits, may tell. ―Glaucus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Be ashamed, O mountains and seas, that these valorous men lack breath. Assume, like pale chattels, an ashen silence at death. ―Parmenio, translation by Michael R. Burch Stripped of her stripling, if asked, she’d confess: “I am now less than nothingness.” ―Diotimus, translation by Michael R. Burch Passerby, Tell the Spartans we lie Lifeless at Thermopylae: Dead at their word, Obedient to their command. Have they heard? Do they understand? ―Simonides, translation by Michael R. Burch That country wench bewitches your heart? Hell, her most beguiling art's hiking her dress to seduce you with her ankles' nakedness! ―Sappho, fragment 57, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Blame not the gale, nor the inhospitable sea-gulf, nor friends’ tardiness, mariner! Just man’s foolhardiness. ―Leonidas of Tarentum, translation by Michael R. Burch Blame not the gale, nor the inhospitable sea-gulf, nor friends’ tardiness, mariner! Just man’s foolhardiness. ―Leonidas of Tarentum, translation by Michael R. Burch Here he lies in state tonight: great is his Monument! Yet Ares cares not, neither does War relent. ―Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wall, I'm astonished that you haven't collapsed, since you're holding up verses so prolapsed! ―Ancient Roman graffiti, translation by Michael R. Burch This world of dew is a dewdrop world indeed; and yet, and yet ... ―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The childless woman, how tenderly she caresses homeless dolls ... ―Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When no wind ruffles the Kiri tree leaves fall of their own free will. ―Nozawa Boncho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The herons stand, sentry-like, at attention ... rigid observers of some unknown command. ―Michael R. Burch Native American Prayer loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Help us learn the lessons you have left us here in every leaf and rock. Prose Epigrams Truths are more likely discovered by one man than by nations.―Rene Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.―Michael R. Burch
The Golden Rule is much easier to recite than observe.―Michael R. Burch
Consider a Golden Mean when the Golden Rule is employed. Some people are much harder on themselves than on others.―Michael R. Burch
Cassidy Hutchinson is not only credible, but her courage and poise
under fire have been incredible. ― Michael R. Burch Cassidy Hutchinson is a modern Erin Brockovich except that in her case the well has been poisoned for the whole country. ― Michael R. Burch The editors of Poetry know no more about poetry than I do about basket-weaving, except that I know a good basket when I have it in my hands. ― Michael R. Burch Honey-Suckle by Michael R. Burch I sampled honeysuckle and it made my taste buds buckle. Improve yourself by others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at great expense. ― Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.―Michael R. Burch Heaven and hell seem unreasonable to me: the actions of men do not deserve such extremes.―Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Reality is neither probable nor likely.―Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.―Michael R. Burch Neither the leaf nor the tree laments karma.―Michael R. Burch These are my modern English translations of ancient Greek poems and epigrams by Sophocles, including antinatalist poems and epigrams.
It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
―Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.
―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!
―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source, but crowned with peace is the one who never came. ―a Sophoclean passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The happiest life is one empty of thought. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what's the use of hanging on day after day, edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Children anchor their mothers to life. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer! ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fortune never favors the faint-hearted. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch We need evening to appreciate the day's attractions. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Evening helps us appreciate the day's attractions. ―Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Keywords/Tags: Sophocles, Greek, translation, translations, English, antinatalist, birth, born, death, life and death, day, eve, evening, night, fortune, wisdom, wealth, truth, pain, mother, mothers, mother and child, children
Bound
by Michael R. Burch
Now it is winter ― the coldest night. And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter ― the coldest night. And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal, The Lantern
Tell Me
by Michael R. Burch
Tell me what i am,
for i have often wondered why i live.
Do u know?
Please, tell me so ...
drive away the darkness from within.
For my life is black with sin
and i have often wondered why i am;
and my thoughts are lacking light,
though i have often sought what was right.
Now it is night;
please drive away the darkness from without,
for I doubt that I will see
the coming of the day
without ur help.
This poem appeared in my high school journal, the Lantern. I believe I wrote it around age 15 to 16 during the period I wrote related "I am/am I" poems such as "I Am Lonely," "Am I," "Time" and "Why Did I Go?"
Cameo
by Michael R. Burch
Breathe upon me the breath of life;
gaze upon me with sardonyx eyes.
Here, where times flies
in the absence of light,
all ecstasies are intimations of night.
Hold me tonight in the spell I have cast;
promise what cannot be given.
Show me the stairway to heaven.
Jacob's-ladder grows all around us;
Jacob's ladder was fashioned of onyx.
So breathe upon me the breath of life;
gaze upon me with sardonic eyes . . .
and, if in the morning I am not wise,
at least then I’ll know if this dream we call life
was worth the surmise.
I wrote this poem around age 21.
Less Heroic Couplets: Gilded Silence by Michael R. Burch Golden silence reigned supreme in my nightmare and her dream. Christ! by Michael R. Burch If I knew men could be so dumb, I would never have come! Now you lie, cheat and steal in my name and make it a thing of shame. Did I heal the huge holes in your heart, in your head? Isn’t it obvious: I’m dead! A Further Farewell to Dentistry by Michael R. Burch (for and after Richard Moore, from whom I absconded the title) Lately I've been eschewing ice chewing and my indentured dentist’s been boo-hoo-hooing.
EPIGRAM TRANSLATIONS BY MICHAEL R. BURCH
Speechless at Auschwitz
by Ko Un
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
At Auschwitz
piles of glasses
mountains of shoes ...
returning, we stared out different windows.
Ko Un speaks for all of us, by not knowing what to say about the evidence of the Holocaust, and man's inhumanity to man.
Ko Un was speechless at Auschwitz.
Someday, when it’s too late,
will we be speechless at Gaza?
�"Michael R. Burch
Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their w****s for exotic positions.
�"Thomas Campion, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A question that sometimes drives me hazy:
am I or are the others crazy?
�"Albert Einstein, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Elevate your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder.�"Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why should I brood when every petal of my being is blossoming?�"Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What you seek also pursues you.�"Rumi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This is love: to fly toward a mysterious sky,
to cause ten thousand veils to fall.
First, to stop clinging to life,
then to step out, without feet ...
�"Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love renders reason senseless.
�"Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I test the tightrope
balancing a child
in each arm.
�"Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw I didn’t mean to love you,
but I did.
Best leave the rest unsaid,
hid-
den
and unbidden.
�"Michael R. Burch
You imagine life is good,
but have you actually understood?
�"Michael R. Burch
Living with a body ain’t much fun.
Harder, still, to live without one.
Whatever happened to our day in the sun?
�"Michael R. Burch
How little remains of our joys and our pains.
How little remains of our losses and gains.
How little remains of whatever remains.
�"Michael R. Burch
Sometimes I feel better, it’s true,
but mostly I’m still not over you.
�"Michael R. Burch
Don’t let the past defeat you.
Learn from it, but don’t dwell.
Have no regrets at “farewell.”
�"Michael R. Burch
Haughty moon,
when did I ever trouble you,
insomnia’s co-conspirator!
�"Michael R. Burch
Every day’s a new chance to lose weight,
but most likely,
I’ll
... procrastinate ...
�"Michael R. Burch
Big Ben Boner
by Michael R. Burch
Early to bed, hurriedly to rise
makes a man stealthy,
and that’s why he’s wealthy:
what the hell is he doing behind your closed eyes?
Friend, how you’ll squirm
when you belatedly learn
that you’re the worm!
Pecking Disorder
by Michael R. Burch
Love has a pecking order,
or maybe a dis-order,
a hell we recognize
if we merely open our eyes:
the attractive win at birth,
while those of ample girth
are deemed of little worth
from Nottingham to Perth.
Nottingham is said to have the most beautiful women in the world.
Tease
by Michael R. Burch
It’s what you always say, okay?
It’s what you always say:
C’mon let’s play,
roll in the hay,
It’s what you always say. Ole!
But little do you do, it’s true.
But little do you do.
A little diddle, run to piddle ...
we never really screw!
That’s you!
Observance (II)
by Michael R. Burch
fifty years later...
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
majestic to the eye.
Whoever felt as I,
whoever
felt them doomed to die
despite their flamboyant colors?
They seem like knights of dismal countenance ...
as if, windmills themselves,
they might tilt with the bloody sky.
And yet their favors gaily fly!
KEYWORDS/TAGS: epigram, epigrams, love, life, living, fun, sun, joy, pain, past, sad, sadness
"Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") by Wang Wei (699-759) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Uninhabited hills ... except that now and again the silence is broken by something like the sound of distant voices as the sun's sinking rays illuminate lichens ... Wang Wei (699-759) was a Chinese poet, musician, painter, and politician during the Tang dynasty. He had 29 poems included in the 18th-century anthology Three Hundred Tang Poems. "Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") is one of his best-known poems. Keywords/Tags: epigram, epigrams, Wang Wei, Chinese, translation, nature, animal, deer, park, hills, silence, sound, voices, wind, voice, sun, rays, illuminate, peace, growth, wisdom Clodhoppers by Michael R. Burch If you trust the Christian “god” you’re―like Adumb―a clod. After the Poetry Recital Later there’ll be talk of saving whales Myth Here the recalcitrant wind And she is the myth of the scythed wheat Here the immaculate dawn I believe I wrote the first version of this poem toward the end of my senior year of high school, around age 18. To my recollection this is my only poem directly influenced by the “sprung rhythm” of Dylan Thomas (more so than that of Gerard Manley Hopkins). He Lived: Excerpts from “Gilgamesh”
O, surely they shall, they must rise again,
by vast eons of dust, at last fell mute H.B. for Hermann Broch by Hannah Arendt loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Survival. But how does one live without the dead? Where is the sound of their lost company? Where now, their companionable embraces? We wish they were still with us. We are left with the cry that ripped them from us. Left with the veil that shrouds their empty gazes. What avails? That we commit ourselves to them, and through this commitment, learn to survive. I Love the Earth by Hannah Arendt loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I love the earth like a trip to a foreign land and not otherwise. Even so life spins me on its loom softly into never-before-seen patterns. Until suddenly like the last farewells of a new journey, the great silence breaks the frame. Abdul Ghani Khan aka Ghani Baba was an Pakistani poet, philosopher, engineer, sculptor, painter, writer and politician who wrote in Pashto. Excerpts from “Zama Mahal” (“My Palace”) I fashioned a palace from the river’s white sands, The Chalice A note of drunkenness floats on the dusk; Entreaty I do not need your polished lips, (Written at age 15, in July 1929, on the ship Neldera) To God i don’t say You don’t exist, i say You do, za khu na wayam che neshta, za khu wayama che e, khu jahan de dasi khkarey laka be-malika kur Look Up To understand the magnificence of the Universe, Stargey bara ka ta portha, che pa shaan poi da jahan she The Brain and the Heart The brain and the heart? Two powerful independent kings governing one country. Khudaya aqal che o zra de wali rako, pa yu mulk ke dhwa khodhsara bachayaan Someone please tell me: Last night the mountain peak Paradise lay beneath my mother’s feet. Wherever our mothers walk, beneath their feet lies Paradise. These are poems I have written about Shakespeare, poems I have written for Shakespeare, and poems I have written after Shakespeare. Fleet Tweet: Apologies to Shakespeare Remember, doggonit, To be or not to be? Ophelia for Kevin N. Roberts Ophelia, madness suits you well, Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 Refuted My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Seas that sparkle in the sun Coral formed beneath the sea, Bright roses’ brief affairs, declared Originally published by Romantics Quarterly This was my first sonnet, written in my teens after I discovered Shakespeare's "Sonnet 130." At the time I didn't know the rules of the sonnet form, so mine is a bit unconventional. I think it is not bad for the first attempt of a teen poet. I remember writing this poem in my head on the way back to my dorm from a freshman English class. I would have been 18 or 19 at the time. Attention Span Gap What if a poet, Shakespeare, Yes, a sonnet may end in a couplet, Bring back that Grand Era when men Chloe There were skies onyx at night... moons by day... Soon impatiens too fiery to stay Where our feet were inclined, we would stray; What I found, I found lost in her face “Chloe” is a Shakespearean sonnet about being parted from someone you wanted and expected to be with forever. It was originally published by Romantics Quarterly as "A Dying Fall" Sonnet: The City Is a Garment A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light,�" cascade their brilliant contents out like coins her hills are haired with brush like cashmere wool When night becomes too chill, she softly dons “The City is a Garment” is a Shakespearean sonnet. Afterglow for Beth The night is full of stars. Which still exist? once slow to match this reckless spark in me, for one pale flame that seemed to signify enough each night to bask in you, to know “Afterglow” is a Shakespearean sonnet. I Learned Too Late “Show, don’t tell!” I learned too late that poetry has rules, In any case, by dodging rules and schools, I learned too late that sentiment is bad�" In any case, by following my heart, I learned too late that “telling” is a crime. In any case, by telling, I admit: Heaven Bent This life is hell; it can get no worse. This is a poem in which I imagine Shakespeare speaking through a modern Hamlet. That Mella Fella John Mella was the longtime editor of Light Quarterly. There once was a fella Shakespeare had his patrons and publishers; John Mella was one of my favorites in the early going, along with Jean Mellichamp Milliken of The Lyric. Chip Off the Block for Jeremy In the fusion of poetry and drama, NOTE: Jeremy’s father is a poet and his mother is an actress; hence the fusion, or confusion, as the case may be. Ono no Komachi Translations These are my modern English translations of the ancient Japanese poems of Ono no Komachi… Submit to you, is that what you advise? The way the ripples do whenever ill winds arise? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Watching wan moonlight flooding tree limbs, my heart also brims, overflowing with autumn. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch If fields of autumn flowers can shed their blossoms, shameless, why can't I also frolic here... as fearless and as blameless? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I had thought to pluck the flower of forgetfulness only to find it already blossoming in his heart. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sad, the end that awaits me... to think that before autumn yields I'll be a pale mist shrouding these rice fields. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Now bitterly I watch fall winds battering the rice stalks, suspecting I'll never again find anything to harvest. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch This abandoned mountain shack... how many nights has autumn sheltered there? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Am I to spend the night alone atop this summit, cold and lost? Won't you at least lend me your robes of moss? �"Ono no Komachi (GSS XVII: 1195), loose translation by Michael R. Burch Am I to spend the night alone atop this ice-crag, cold and lost? Won't you at least lend me your robes of moss? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Two things wilt without warning, bleeding away their colors: a flower and a man's heart. �"Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 797), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Alas, the beauty of the flowers came to naught as I watched the rain, lost in melancholy thought... �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch So cruelly severed, a root-cut reed... if the river offered, why not be freed? �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wretched water-weed that I am, severed from all roots: if rapids should entice me, why not welcome their lethal shoots? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch In this dismal world the living decrease as the dead increase... oh, how much longer must I bear this body of grief? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I think of you ceaselessly, with love... and so... come to me at night, for in the flight of dreams, no one can disapprove! ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Since my body was neglected by the one who had promised faithfully to come, I now lie here questioning its existence. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sleepless with loneliness, I find myself longing for the handsome moon. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Once-colorful flowers faded, while in my drab cell life's impulse also abated as the long dismal rains fell. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch As I slept in isolation my desired beloved appeared to me; therefore, dreams have become my reality and consolation. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch That which men call 'love'... is it not merely the chain preventing our escape from this world of pain? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Did you appear only because I was lost in thoughts of love when I nodded off, day-dreaming of you? (If I had known that you couldn't possibly be true, I'd have never awakened!) ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Watching the long, dismal rains inundating the earth, my heart too is washed out, bleeds off with the colors of the late spring flowers. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Though I visit him continually in my dreams, the sum of all such ethereal trysts is still less than one actual, solid glimpse. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch I feel desire so intensely in the lily-seed darkness that tonight I'll turn my robe inside-out before donning it. �"Ono no Komachi (KKS XII: 554), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This vain life! My looks and talents faded like these cherry blossoms inundated by endless rains that I now survey, alone. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Autumn nights are 'long' only in verse and song: for we had just begun to gaze into each other's eyes when dawn immolated the skies! ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch On nights such as these when no moon lights your way to me, I lie awake, my passion blazing, my breast an inferno wildly raging, while my heart chars within me. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Since there's obviously nothing to catch in this barren bay, how can he fail to understand: the fisherman who persists in coming and going until his legs collapse in the sand? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch What do I know of villages where fisherfolk dwell? Why do you keep demanding that I show you the seashore, lead you to some pearly shell? ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Yielding to a love that recognizes no boundaries, I will approach him by night... for the world cannot despise a wandering dreamer. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Now that I approach life's inevitable winter your ardor has faded like blossoms wilted by late autumn rains. ―Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch 'It's over! ' Your words drizzle like dismal rains, bringing tears, as I wilt with my years. �"Ono no Komachi (KKS XV: 782), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I pursue you ceaselessly in my dreams... yet we've never met; we're not even acquainted! �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Like flowers wilted by drenching rains, my beauty has faded in the onslaught of my forlorn years. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fiery coals searing my body hurt me far less than the sorrow of parting. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Love is man's most unbreakable bond. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This moonless night, with no way to meet him, I grow restless with longing: my breast's an inferno, my heart chars within me. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How brilliantly tears rain upon my sleeve in bright gemlets, for my despair cannot be withstood, like a surging flood! �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This flower's color has drained away, while in idle thoughts my life drained away as the long rains fall. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fatal reality! You must do what you must, I suppose. But even hidden in my dreams from all prying eyes, to watch you still pains me so! �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch In eye-opening daylight much stands revealed, but when I see myself reflected in hostile eyes even dreams become nightmares. �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I would meet him tonight but the moon shows no path; my desire for him, smoldering in my breast, burns my heart to ash! �"Ono no Komachi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sotoba Komachi is a modern Noh play by Yukio Mishima (1925-1970) . Mishima's play is based on an ancient work by Kan'ami Kiyotsugu (1333-1384). Excerpts from SOTOBA KOMACHI by KWANAMI loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Priest of the Koyasan: We who have built our homes on shallow slopes now seek solitude in the heart's deep recesses. Second Priest: This single thought possessed me: How I might bring a single seed to flower, the wisdom of Buddha, the locus of our salvation, until in despair I donned this dark cassock. Ono no Komachi: Lately so severed, like a root-cut reed, if the river offered, why not be freed? I would gladly go, but here no wave stirs... I was once full of pride now fled with the years, gone with dark tresses and with lustrous locks; I was lithe as a willow in my springtime frocks; I once sang like a nightingale sipping dew; I was wild as the rose when the skies shone blue... in those days before fall when the long shadows grew. But now I've grown loathsome even to w****s; even urchins abhor me; men treat me with scorn... Now I am nothing but a poor, withered bough, and yet there are wildflowers in my heart, even now. Only my body lingers, for my heart left this world long ago! Priests (together) : O, piteous, piteous! Is this the once-fabled flower-bright Komachi, Komachi the Beautiful, whose dark brows bridged eyes like young moons; her face whitest alabaster forever; whose many damask robes filled cedar-scented closets? Ono no Komachi wrote tanka (also known as waka), the most traditional form of Japanese lyric poetry. She is an excellent representative of the Classical, or Heian, period (circa 794-1185 AD) of Japanese literature, and she is one of the best-known poets of the Kokinshu (circa 905), the first in a series of anthologies of Japanese poetry compiled by imperial order. She is also one of the Rokkasen, the six best waka poets of the early Heian period, during which poetry was considered the highest art. These are modern English translations of the "Xenia" epigrams written in collaboration by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller. #2 - Verse versus Kiss She says an epigram’s too terse to reveal her tender heart in verse ... but really, darling, ain’t the thrill of a kiss much shorter still? ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #5 - Criticism Why don’t I openly criticize the man? Because he’s a friend; thus I reproach him in silence, as I do my own heart. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #11 - Highest Holiness What is holiest? This heart-felt love binding spirits together, now and forever. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #12 - Love versus Desire You love what you have, and desire what you lack because a rich nature expands, while a poor one retracts. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #19 - Nymph and Satyr As shy as the trembling doe your horn frightens from the woods, she flees the huntsman, fainting, uncertain of love. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #20 - Desire What stirs the virgin’s heaving breasts to sighs? What causes your bold gaze to brim with tears? ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #23 - The Apex I Everywhere women yield to men, but only at the apex do the manliest men surrender to femininity. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #24 - The Apex II What do we mean by the highest? The crystalline clarity of triumph as it shines from the brow of a woman, from the brow of a goddess. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #25 -Human Life Young sailors brave the sea beneath ten thousand sails while old men drift ashore on any bark that avails. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #35 - Dead Ahead What’s the hardest thing of all to do? To see clearly with your own eyes what’s ahead of you. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #36 - Unexpected Consequence Friends, before you utter the deepest, starkest truth, please pause, because straight away people will blame you for its cause. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch #41 - Earth versus Heaven By doing good, you nurture humanity; but by creating beauty, you scatter the seeds of divinity. ―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Mercedes Benz by Michael R. Burch I'd like to do a song of great social and political import. It goes like this: Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz? My friends screw in Porsches, I must make amends! Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends. So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz? Oh Donnie, won't you rent me your sexy import? You need to pay your lawyers: a tart for a tort! I’ll await her delivery each day until three. And Donnie, please throw in Ivanka for free! Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town? I'm counting on you, Don, so don't let me down! Oh, prove you're a playboy and bring them around. Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town? Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz? My friends screw in Porsches, I must make amends! Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends. So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz? Ode to a Pismire by Michael R. Burch Drumpf is a sissy: his hair’s in a Fritz. Drumpf is a missy: he won’t drink Schlitz. Drumpf’s cobra-hissy though he lives in the Ritz. Drumpf is so pissy his diaper’s the Shitz. The Ballade of Large Marge Greene by Michael R. Burch Marge is large and in charge, like a barge. Yes, our Marge is quite large, like a hefty surcharge. Like a sarge, say LaFarge, apt to over-enlarge creating dissent before the final discharge. Trump Limericks aka Slimericks The Nazis now think things’re grand. The KKK’s hirin’ a band. Putin’s computin’ Less Ukrainian shootin’. They’re hootin’ ’cause Trump’s win is planned. �"Michael R. Burch Trump comes with a few grotesque catches: He likes to grope unoffered snatches; He loves to ICE kids; His brain’s on the skids; And then there’s the coups the fiend hatches. �"Michael R. Burch Trump’s Saddest Tweet to Date by Michael R. Burch I’ve gotten all out of kilter. My erstwhile yuge tool is a wilter! I now sleep in bed. Few hairs on my head. Inhibitions? I now have no filter! the best of all possible whirls, for MAGA by Michael R. Burch ive made a mistake or two. okay, maybe quite *more* than a few: mistakes by the millions, the billions and zillions, but remember: ur LORD made u! where were u when HEE passed out brains? or did u politely abstain? u call GAUD “infallible” when HEE made u so gullible u cant come inside when Trump reigns. My Sin-cere Endorsement of a Trump Cultist by Michael R. Burch If you choose to be an idiot, who can prevent you? If you love to do evil, why then, by all means, go serve the con who sent you! Bird’s Eye View Michael R. Burch So many fantasical inventions, but what are man’s intentions? I don’t trust their scooty cars. And what about their plans for Mars? Their landfills’ high retentions? The dodos they fail to mention? I don’t trust Trump’s “clean coal” cars, and what the hell are his plans for Mars? Untitled Don't disturb him in his inner sanctum Or he’ll have another Trumper Tantrum. �"Michael R. Burch It turns out the term was prophetic, since "conservatives" now serve a con. �" Michael R. Burch To live among you �" ah! �" as among vipers, coldblooded creatures not knowing right from wrong, adoring Trump, hissing and spitting venom. Trump rhymes with chump grump frump lifelong slump illogical jump garbage dump sewage clump sump pump dry hump cancerous lump malignant bump unpleasingly plump slovenly schlump yuge enormous diaper-clad rump and someone we voters are going to thump and whump �"Michael R. Burch Putin's Lootin's by Michael R. Burch They’re dropping like flies: Putin’s “allies.” Ah, but who gets their funny money? Two birds with one stone: no dissent, buy a drone. For tyrants the darkest day’s sunny! Preempted by Michael R. Burch Friends, I admit that I’m often tempted to say what I think about Trump, but all such thought’s been preempted by the sight of that Yuge Orange Rump! Mate Check by Michael R. Burch *The editorial board of the Washington Post is “very worried that American women don’t want to marry Trump supporters.”* Supporting Trump puts a crimp in dating (not to mention mating). So, horny dudes, if you’d like to bed intelligent gals, and possibly wed, it’s time to jettison that red MAGA cap and tweet “farewell” to an orange sap. Squid on the Skids by Michael R. Burch Sidney Powell howled in 2020: “The Kraken will roar through the land of plenty!” But she recalled the Terror in 2023 with a slippery, slimy, squid-like plea. The Kraken Cracked by Michael R. Burch She’s singing like a canary. Who says krakens are scary? Squidney said the election was hacked, but when all her lies were unpacked, the crackpot kraken cracked. Now, with a shrill, high-pitched squeal, The kraken has cut a deal. Oh, tell it with jubilation: the kraken is on probation! Trump’s Retribution Resolution by Michael R. Burch My New Year’s resolution? I require your money and votes, for *you* are *my* retribution. May I offer you dark-skinned scapegoats and bigger and deeper moats as part of my sweet resolution? Please consider a YUGE contribution, a mountain of lovely C-notes, for *you* are *my* retribution. Revenge is our only solution, since my critics are weasels and stoats. Come, second my sweet resolution! The New Year’s no time for dilution of the anger of victimized GOATs, when *you* are *my* retribution. Forget the damned Constitution! To dictators “ideals” are footnotes. My New Year’s resolution? *You* are *my* retribution. Two Trump Truisms by Michael R. Burch When Trump’s the culprit everyone’s a “snitch.” It ain’t a “witch hunt” when the perp’s a witch. Horrid Porridge by Michael R. Burch *My apologies to porridge for this unfortunate association with an unwholesome human being.* Why is Trump orange, like porridge (though not some we’re likely to forage)? The gods of yore knew long before Trump was born, to a life of deplorage, that his face must conform to the uniform he’d wear for his prison decorage! Dictionary Definition of Trump by Michael R. Burch Trump is a chump; he’s the freep of a frump; he’s an orange-skinned Grinch and, much worse, he’s a Grump!; he’s a creep; he’s a Sheik (sans harem); a skunk!; “Kill the veep!” he’s a murderous coup d’tot-er in a slump; “Drain the swamps, then refill them with my crocodilian donors!”; Trump is a rapist with insufficient boners; Trump is, as he predicted, a constitutional crisis; Trump is our non-so-sweet American vanilla ISIS; Trump is a thief who will bring the world to grief; Trump is a whiner and our Pleader-in-Chief. Triple Trump by Michael R. Burch No one ever trumped a Trump like Trump. He turned Mar-a-Lago into a dump and spewed filth at the stump like a sump pump while looking like a moulting Orange Hefalump! Trump made the Grinch seem like just another Grump by giving darker Whos a “get lost” lump. No colored child was spared from his Neanderthalic thump. Trump gave fascists a fist-bump, consulted Nazi servers for an info-dump and invited Russian agents for a late-night hump. Don the Con con-sidered laws a speed bump, fired anyone who ever tried to be an ump, and gave every evil known to man a quantum jump. You may think he’s just plump and a chump, with the style of a frump, the posture of a shlump, his brain in a slump, and perhaps too inclined for a porn-star hump, while being deprived by his parents of a necessary whump ... but when it comes to political asses, Trump is the rump! #TRUMP #DONTHECON #MRBTRUMP #MRBDONTHECON #MRBPOEMS Keywords/Tags: light verse, nonsense verse, doggerel, limerick, humor, humorous verse, light poetry, bawdy, salacious, ribald, risque, naughty, racy, spicy, adult, nature, politics, religion, science, relationships Keywords/Tags: epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epithet, giggle, humor, humorous, irony, literature, word play, writing, short, brief, aphorism, adage, saw, proverb, saying, quote, quip, bon mot, witticism, gem, sally, motto, pith, pithy, jape, jest, chestnut, adage, wit, horseplay, sage © 2024 Michael R. Burch |
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