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on In my desolation by Ono no Komachi, on September 18, 2007I prefer other translations where 'water weed' is used instead of 'duckweed' - the connotation is better.
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on Corona by Paul Celan, on August 17, 2006Jerome Rothenburg's translation:
Autumn is eating a leaf from my hand: we are friends.
We are picking time out of a nut, we teach it to run:
and time rushes back to its shell.
In the mirror it's Sunday,
in dreams people sleep,
the mouth tells the truth.
My eye descends to the sex of my loved one,
we gaze at each other,
we whisper out darkness,
we love one another like poppies and memory,
we sleep like wine in a seashell,
like the sea in the moon's bloody rays.
Embracing we stand by the window, and people look up from
the street:
it is time that they knew!
It is time that the stone grew accustomed to blooming,
that unrest formed a heart.
It is time it was time.
It is time.
From 'Paul Celan: Selections' edited by Pierre Joris -
on Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom by Louise Bogan, on April 7, 2006the prisoned cricket in the granite hill
shakes its terrible dissembling music
like a thing gone dead and still
To never love in this manner!


metamorphose the mollusk
of vague vocabulary
with the structural discipline:
stiffen the ordinary
malleable mask
to the granite grin of bone.
It's excellent - read this people!!