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T

Tengu



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1997-2001 . , , 2002


Selecting colours
For the night sky;
Chalks or coals?


The world is full of dreams
Of birds still asleep
How early it's yet.


Only towards sunset I realized:
I've been walking all day
In the shade of a lark!


Getting off a local train
Was taken by surprise:
An outburst of cornflowers.


So petit!
It takes ages to gather a bunch
Field flowers!


How do I get to the spring? -
Head for
That cloud of butterflies!


Off a steep bank
Above the frightened birds
The fly of a frog!


Hovering along the rock
Next to its' shadow
A white bird.


The stone garden 
Is in blossom
With butterflies.


The night rain
First awakened
Then lullabies.


The solo of the conductor's wand
This butterfly's flight
Over the morning meadow.


Much wood has burnt under you
Many stars enveloped in your steam
The traveller's kettle.


Fluttering beside me
As if I was
Walking you, butterfly.


The night around a campfire
Now coming nearer
Then retreating to the river.


Early morning
Captured in the silence
Of the falling leaves.


Pensively
Pulling the cap sideways
Or over your eyes, acorn.


Never believed in wonders
Now I stand before you,
Red maples!


Beyond the window
Pine covered hills
With cracks of birch.


The sun shines through the clouds
Lost with our thoughts
We miss the angel. 


Caught in the night
The moon keeps bouncing
From cypress to cypress.


With the last strike
Of the monastery bell
Night comes.


Cloud-ward bound
I saw on my way
A field of buttercups.


So awkward:
Sweeping everything
This new broom.


Take me along
Me or my glance
October clouds.


Asked an old woman
About her youth
Smiled for a long time.


A summer morning
Right on the melons
Asleep the seller.


The road leads to the sky
No matter how long I walk
The road leads to the sky.


Around the axis
Peonies, chrysanthemums
Life goes round.


Year in, year out,
Life ends
With the spring flood.


translations by Natalia Kuznetsova and Nicole Ostine

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