Пастораль

K человеку, который пробуждал мою тоскy
Мою сентиментальность, меланхолию

Во имя красоты природы, Monsieur
Ваши прекрасные слова, я слушаю

Сезон он хорошо знал их:
Тепло весны, кокетливый Святоянский ночи
И осень, которaя всегда поздно пришла
Он сказал, "Зимa знает все радости"

Поэт, который был 38 весны
Oн нарисовал идеальное изображение
В моей голове
Он нарисовал все, со словами:
Олень, лошадь, медведь, луговые
Акация, береза, вишня, река
Смородина, поток, море
Ферме, сирень, Levisticum officinalis

Великий поэт—натуралист!

Он научил меня любить
Он сказал, любовь—олень

Любовь—цветок
Любовь—pанный весный дождь
(Он любил румяные щеки)
Он знал каждый плод земли
Он говорил о них как старые друзья

K человеку, который пробуждал мою тоскy
Мою сентиментальность, меланхолию
Для вас мой стеклo поднимаю! Salute!

(SemSa)

I See Something Fishy!

One morning wakeup at Pulau Peucang to wait for dolphin show. Instead I've got a barracuda show. it was great!

Pretty in Pink

Drooping flowers in pink
looking inviting
yet for a bee like me
i know they bear
no single drop of nectar

they're pink! pink!
and the whole meadow summoned
to the foot of the mountain
that early morning
when pines only served as screen

fuchsia a mantid friend said
to the sniffing felis
but to me i recognised no such name
it's a color too said him

the entire congregation
decided to make a notion
that the owl should speak
a word of wisdom

ask the ash crow
for it will show
it always says i not know
anything that it does more

i was about to open my beak
but then i remembered this
an empty stomach is far more important
to fill than to negate this
and end as the breakfast
of the sniffing felis

Splendor of the Grass

I am weed
in the field
yet I am the rose
among the rocks and dust

Beestung Lips

I bought this lip balm and thought this was a nice surprise. it mixes castor oil plant, candelilla, shea nut, almond, jojoba, and grapes. and when i applied it on my lips and twas like stung by bee.

O traveler

away from home
from the warmth of the nest
but the bird likes it best
and even forgets where it is
she feels it belongs
to the very land it perches on

that it eats many
and makes friends with many
makes me happy

do I set it free?
i asked me

my heart said
i never keep it caged
that his eye is on it
it can eat many
and be happy

here I end the story
I care not if it returns to me
as long as it eats many
flips its wings and swings
and be on and on happy

Pastorelle

ascended every morning
sent prayer through the ceiling
though heart heavy with uncertain feelings
to greet the bright orange sky

but her heart nobody knew
did it dwell in the land
where she held hope in hand?
or did it smile
when she was many a mile
away from her homeland?

the weeds she mowed
faster than did cows
fetched water in metal jug
atop her head
when she moved down in small steps?

slowly the water spilled
as she stepped down the hill
and the unborn baby forgot something
a scene unseen from his memory

(for the only thing he saw
was a scene in a flash of light
a flying angel view
from the white clouds
he saw him and the woman
on a boat, rowing
and it felt a hand pushed him
to the light
and that was him then
face to face with death
in curtain)

she did it with heavy heart
that every drip counted
oh what was that?
asked the unborn baby

ascended every morning
sent prayer through the ceiling
to greet the bright orange sky

but her heart nobody knew
it dwelt not in the land
where she held hope in hand
but it did smile
when she was many a mile
away from her homeland



(MamePb10)