the fundamental principle

It doesn’t look like
they will die in a short time —
the sounds of cicadas.

Matsuo Bashō


brief dream

Let me stay for now
where there is a pasania tree —
the summer grove.

Matsuo Bashō

june nights

In summer, when day has fled,
the plain covered with flowers pours out
far away an intoxicating sent; eyes shut, ears half open to noises,
we only half sleep in a transparent slumber.

The stars are purer, the shade seems pleasanter;
a hazy half-day colours the eternal dome;
and the sweet pale dawn awaiting her hour
seems to wander all night at the bottom of the sky.

Victor Hugo


This phantasm
of falling petals vanishes into
moon and flowers …


white umbrella

The sky at summer’s coming dons a cloak of dust
stirred up by wind to form a parasol
for keeping off the heat from earth.
The bees fly not as hitherto forthwith
to drink the nectar of the coral tree,
for they doubt its flower may be forest fire.


this is bad

Someone hands you an English thriller,
highly recommended.
You don’t read English.

You’ve worked up a thirst
for something you can’t afford.

You have deep insights,
brand new, and they sound
like an academic glossing Hölderlin.

You hear the waves at night
ramping against the shore
and you think: that’s what waves do.

Worse: you’re asked out
when at home you get better coffee,
silence, and you don’t expect to be amused.

Awful: not to die in summer
under a bright sky
when the rich dirt
falls easily from the shovel.

Gottfried Benn


Now are the days of summer’s glory,
which appoints for lust the hour before dawn,
which congeals somewhat the milk of coconuts,
ripens the royal plantain,
and is loveliest at sunset.