Haiku. これらの詩はどのような目的に役立ちますか？

 

Snail on the sidewalk --

doubtful it can cross alone --

my hands must stay clean

歩道にカタツムリがあります  --

それがそれ自体で交差できるかどうかは疑わしい --
私の手は清潔に保たなければなりません


Walking home from work
the man wears a greasy cap --
his mustache slouches

仕事から家に帰ると、男は脂っこい帽子をかぶっている --
彼の口ひげは垂れ下がる


Voice of the ring dove --
Low. Insistent. Pleading what?
More millet in peace.

リング鳩の声 --
低い。しつこい。何を訴える？
安心してキビを増やす


Man in greasy cap wearing thinning overalls --
sits and chews and spits

男は脂っこい帽子と裸のオーバーオールを着ています --
彼は座って噛んで唾を吐きます


Bird in a dead tree
sings to the Resurrection --
very few listen

枯れ木の鳥が復活について歌う --
聞く人はほとんどいません

Haiku. 詩人は誠実であるために奮闘します

 

Where will the leaves blow?

Planning for messy autumn

is a brown comfort

葉はどこに吹くのでしょうか？

散らかった秋の計画は退屈な快適さです

Crows shoot into trees
like pellets in a target
the night chases them

カラスはターゲットのペレットのように木に撃ちます
夜は彼らを追いかけます

Around the small house
the unexpected waters flow --
the wind is crying

小さな家の周りに思いがけない水が流れる --
風が泣いている

Haiku. 詩人はばかです

 

A truck rumbles by

the leaves shiver on the trees

the grass starts to choke

トラックが鳴り響く

葉が木に震える
草が窒息し始める


The lengthening night --
mice scurry by my screen door --
the owl watches them

長くなる夜
網戸のそばでネズミが壊血病になる
フクロウはそれらを見ています


The nights are longer --
smell of homework in the air --
squash rinds in the sink

夜は長くなります
空気中の宿題のにおい
流しのスカッシュの皮


I won't be going
back to that place anymore --
elephant droppings

戻らない
もうその場所に
象の糞

When planting a tree
please face it towards Nebraska --
Do trees have a front?

植樹するとき
ネブラスカに向かって直面してください  --
木には正面がありますか？

Haiku. 読む価値はありますか？

 

Three leeks in the fridge;

they have a cold white beauty

before being boiled.

冷蔵庫に3本のネギ

彼らは冷たい白い美しさを持っています
茹でる前に

Leaving the mountains
to poets better than me --
I write of drain pipes.

山を離れる
私よりも詩人に
排水管の書き込み

A day slow to go;
Night sends its regrets --
the stomach flu

行くのが遅い日
夜は来られないことを後
悔している
胃腸炎

Haiku. アマチュアの俳句

 

Do I buy sardines

or a can of pork and beans?

The end of the month.

イワシを買うべきですか

またはイワシの缶？
月末


The prim church steeple
houses circling pigeons
who shit on the bell

プリム教会の尖塔
鳩を一周する家
ベルのそのたわごと

Yellow flags on grass --
"Step on me at your peril!"
Lawn police lurking

草の上の黄色い旗
「あなたの危険で私を踏んでください！」
芝生の警察が潜んでいる

Haiku.

 

Cedar berries glow

a ghostly aquamarine --

the lawn needs mowing

In the summer dust

the sparrows tumble and bathe --

time to do laundry

Clouds lit from above

at sunrise make little sense --

neither does ripe kale

The Governors, all GOP/want freedom and pure liberty/for each resident/and so they resent/vaccines and masks constantly.

The private equity firm/makes English biznesses squirm/It seems we darn Yanks/have money in banks/while the is Pound very infirm.

Mountains through the haze

of gray smoke and memories --

I let the meat burn

The axe is laid at the root of the tree/and servants must productive be/If this seems harsh, remember God/works with all who might be flawed/He'll make allowance for mistakes/but won't abide pretentious fakes. 

Haiku.

 

 A night jar soaring

Brown leaves fallen from ash trees --

we all turn with earth

When the morning breeze

rids the lazy leaves of dew --

jumping in puddles

Provo River

The river laves feet

with the frozen stab of snow

now a memory

I'm unsubscribing 

until I'm offline again;

then I might reboot

Acts of God are strange;

his works are stranger still

to those who do not know

the cross upon the hill --

who walk in noonday sun,

and swear that it is dark;

like those in days of old

who scoffed at Noah's ark.

Haiku

 

Staring down the world

might be done in the winter

but not in summer

If times were better

the window screens would be patched

and fried fish smells shared

the mood is gone

the focus is gone

I'm gulping aspirin

then taking a nap

Haiku

 

The scarecrows looked bored

of their seedy existence --

then the mowers come

Moths to the campfire

They become one with the smoke

while my s'more burns

Fly in the bedroom --

the window is over there,

not by the pillow

Haiku

 

Rice and beans when cooked

with all the season's colors

and smells are a prayer.

I am a stoic

in the matter of summer --

flowers brief riot

This is a failed haiku

it treats syllables with scorn

that would make Basho smile

What a thing is this!

Mountains flex with pine and oak --

under them folks yawn

In Afghanistan

we walked on the roof of hell

weeding the flowers

Why define haiku

at all? Is it not the sound

of one heart beating?

Changing the angle

of the rug in the big room 

improves perception