I serve you not, if you I follow,
Shadow-like, o'er hill and hollow,
And bend my fancy to your leading,
All too nimble for my treading.
When the pilgrimage is done,
And we've the landscape overrun,
I am bitter, vacant, thwarted,
And your heart is unsupported.
Vainly valiant, you have missed
The manhood that should yours resist,
Its complement; but if I could
In severe or cordial mood
Lead you rightly to my altar,
Where the wisest muses falter,
And worship that world-warning spark
Which dazzles me in midnight dark,
Equalizing small and large,
While the soul it doth surcharge,
That the poor is wealthy grown,
And the hermit never alone,
The traveller and the road seem one
With the errand to be done;—
That were a man's and lover's part,
That were Freedom's whitest chart.

The mists rise over
The waters at Asuka;
Memory does not
Pass away so easily.

~~
Asuka gawa
Kawa yodo sarazu
Tatsu kiri no
Omoi sugu beki
Koi ni aranuku ni

Broken hearts and broken bones:
Things that never heal straight.

A last incinerating kiss, then
the exponential loss of  bliss–
take my heart and divide by
you; leave me with poems and
warm anecdotes that I'll store
away like Marie Curie's notes:
still hot, still toxic, still true.

"I hate flowers," she said, her mouth curling toward the ground.
What kind of a woman hates flowers?
"I love nature. I'm in love with nature. But the thought of a flower as a token of affection makes me sad."
"Oh," slipped out of my mouth, barely audible. "Well what would make you happy then?"
After a moments pause with her eyes on my shoes, she looked up and directly into my pupils she said: "A minute."
After another pause, she opened her mouth again; "Just a minute."
And so I squatted down right there in the hill, the carpet of never ending grass beneath us swaying lazily in rhythm with the invisible wind. I sat. She bent down and followed my lead.
And I gave her a minute. Many minutes that managed to blend into each other without my notice and before I knew it, it was dusk. The Sun peered out over the vast horizon, letting us both know that the time we had spent sitting silently had lapsed and appeared to us as no time time at all. It was just the grass, the sky, the wind, the Sun and us.

అవును  అనిపించేలా  ఆరాటం  కలిగింది .
కాదు  అనిపించేలా  మొహమాటం  పెరిగింది .
నిజములే  శత్రువులై  పగపట్టే  రోజులులే .
తప్పులే  ఒప్పులయ్యే  కళికాలం   దాపురించెనులే .
జాలికే  జాలిపడే  రోజులే  దాసోహమే  అయ్యేనులే .
దయాగుణమే  దగ  అయ్యేలా  దారిద్రయం  దరి చేరెనులే .
పాలకుల  మద్యలో  పాపమైపోయేలా  మారిపోయిందే .
చింతించే  విధముగా  చిత్రంగా  మారిందిలే.