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Kenshō Oct 2019
Crossroad of the Mirror's Bend-
Twilight Chasms to the Hedge Tend.

A riddle of vines, answering to where trees extend;
And whispering trails of resonant Hornblende.

Sense a sign where the (M.) Glories ascend,
'Till the trail merges with the meadows end.

Beyond where lands are laid,
Cold Mountain is where I strayed.

I forgot all concept and form
And by the void was ordained.

I lost my name
When I came to the Gateless Gate..

I learned that all humans are the same
beneath the feign.

And the only reason government exists
Is that there's something to gain.

Pursuit and Pain,
Name and Fame,

here that doesn't matter;
here that's just matter.

The city I'm from is the city I shatter.
The seeds I bear are the seeds I scatter.

There's no need for a cheute
When you aren't climbing the ladder.

Most people are formal not formers;
So, in that case I'll have the latter.

You are living in a state of matter;
To me, its a matter of state.

Break the Frameless Gate
And wipe clean Locke's Slate.

Wait, that's tabula rasa, this ain't a debate!
See, you don't even know what the schools were built on you fools!

A world of jewels formed in the perfection of the bend~
A world of molecules spinning, hovering, in the end~

Whatever you believe
It's simply an intellectual tease..

Of what really claims to be,
Like the sound of the bird or a rustle of a tree.

So before you leave
I just wanted to see-

That if I told you this
You might walk the woods with me.

Because, lately I have been oft lonely
And they say I have been soft, only..

I feel a callus around my heart..
God seems to be performing some sort of complex art..

I have seen something in the end;
Yet, I cannot see where to start.

I see all of motion, like time, suspend.
I seem to see you all clearly again, then.

God speaks to me through language, transcend
And I know it was fully my part.

To move through space like my heart
And to the truth I will ever defend~

So, when I'm calling and the meaning ascends,
I pray for the lock to be broken again.

So my slate can be clean from what has been
and to the garden tend-

Because, the reflection in my eye
has made me cry.

When I look from now to then;
But, just know now that was all pretend.

Now I break a spell to start again, listen.
My tear is for you, and, from it, all glistens.

Yet we lose sight of what all the lord mights.
~Toss a yin and yang~

Like, day is just the absence of night;
Or, light is darkness' gift to sight.

See, what is real?
And what really matters?

When I cast my mind like a reel,
Meaning seems to scatter.

An unconscious wind takes my breath away
And I come conscious to what is on my platter

I can clearly see a pathway
And all of life becomes a screenplay.

The sky is my sensei
And no human do I obey.

Because, if this was the Beatles' Way
then I would be the f^#%k!ng Blue Jay~

And I'm coming to see you
In the garden when I pass through.

Tip your hat to a Psychedelic Cat
For when all this is through,
It will have been a picture you drew.

So, I'm tired of the fake and hate;
Just give Love and Compassion.

To all your brothers and sisters
And that doesn't have to rhyme.
मैं तुमसे बहुत प्यार करता हु

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQYYfDYn8ts

listen and recite
Eloisa Oct 2019
Find me in the reddening
October trees of autumn.
Read the poetry I carved on their branches.
Each falling leaf will lead you closer to the most hidden parts of me.
Ronza Jairy Oct 2019
On the sink naked
I wait for him in the dark
Welcome home sweetie
M H John Oct 2019
maybe we loved each other
most in the fall
because much like us
the flowers were dying
Marina Oct 2019
'They said you were the man they were looking for' I heard.
Turning the opposite direction 
I face him, touching his spine
As of how doubtful I am

'Let go of the man. He is 
Known to ****** you.' Elle spoke.
I know it's clear.
I cannot believe to imagine 
The love
The pain
The blessings I've encountered,

The soft spoken words shivered through my mouth 'I let you go.'
noa Oct 2019
this time of year feels like a memory already
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/7/2019

The sun has saddened its face
with lots of gray,
and made the mountains' bed
with an abundance of colors:

For Winter - it makes the bed with whites.
For Autumn - with reds.
In the Summer - with golds.
And for Spring? - with lyrical greens.

It has adorned everything
with shades of colors
awakened but still sleepy,
spoiling with correlation
of fiery greens.

Enamored time of red
of autumn colors
will turn the forest into one big flame
with fulfillment of flirtation.

A dewdrop sobs in the morning
put to sleep by dusk,
flying away as a wreath of rainbow
it returns at dawn.

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/15/2001
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Like leaves

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 7/19/2018

If for the orphans of golden autumn,
Then only in a country where they dig out
From sycamores, beech trees* - among ancestors' shadows
Because these, constantly dying live.

If hands of the poor fall
Like golden leaves, without the law of gravity
- Then what must be never changes
And richer they die.

If everything ecloses itself in the space
Over the crowns with radial glow
Then nothing apart from this color will change...
They'll be reborn again in the multi-leaf tree.

Wieslaw Musialowski 9/22/2004

Beech tree is a national Polish tree often found in Polish poetry.


Indeed

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/23/2019

Nestled into a pillow before falling asleep
maybe you will think to yourself
I managed to get something done today
and the rest? let it happen in dreams,

when you wake up fresh in the morning,
like the grass silvered with frost,
the sun will twinkle with a ray
and everything shall be great,

at midday, you'll sit under a tree,
because it's pleasant to rest in the shade,
and to end the day successfully
you look at the tops of the mountains

and you think how wonderful and beautiful
is autumn, luckily, the forest is not burning

though beech trees as red as fire

Wieslaw Musialowski 9/2/2019

*A reference to The 2019 Siberian wildfires.
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/8/2019

* * * (A sad September is heading over the tops...)

A sad September is heading over the tops,
through the barren peaks suddenly turned gray.
In his heart hidden luggage of memories he carries,
and only crickets' farewell sails
quietly rustle with wind filled,
rocking to sleep dreams* unfulfilled.

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/27/2002

*moments in the original

Autumnal Hour (Shorter)

Look! - from smoke I plait this poem short:
for fogs over an autumn meadow
with heathers strewn and drowsy,
for stubbles, fields and forests - in honor - of bards!
I? - I know they're hardly rustling
the strophes of simple words... And you? - you weave sorrows!

Wieslaw Musialowski 6/19/2002
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Maria Etre Oct 2019
Sometimes the memory of you
bleeds through
the ink
of
m
y
poetry
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