The branch of blossoms
That conceals from my view
The bright moon…
The cold is bitter –
Awaking in the night, I hear
Cries of waterfowl:
Are they unable to shake off the frost
That has settled thickly on their wings ?
By what trick of fate
Am I obliged to search for
Even the faintest
Clues into the vanished past
To discover who I am?
In the spring,
When a myriad birds chirp lustily,
All things of nature
Take on new life, while I alone
Move ever onward to old age.
I wish I were a nodding rose
for you to watch me bud and blow,
and pluck me with that slender hand,
and press me to your breasts of snow…
My love, Diodorus, is like a spring
Storm, of the ﬂuid sea’s engendering.
You imitate a thundercloud, then after
The weather clears, your eyes brim with soft laughter.
Like a castaway who counts the steep
Waves, I am tempest-tossed upon the deep;
Give me, that I may know in which direction
To swim, marks of aversion or affection…
Oh what ails you?
Do not betray me, I implore you.
Before he comes back, get up, never ruin yourself,
do not ruin me a poor wretched sinner.
It is day now, see the light through the window,
do you not see it?
You say that you love rain,
but you open your umbrella when it rains…
You say that you love the sun,
but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines…
You say that you love the wind,
But you close your windows when wind blows…
This is why I am afraid;
You say that you love me too…
Underneath every stone
there lies hidden a scorpion, dear friend.
Take care, or he will sting you.
All concealment is treachery.
Anonymous drinking songs
Arouse the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts,
Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey;
Lesser the risk, than rouse the slumbering fire
Of wild fanaticism.