nothing but the moon tonight—
and cotton-like clouds in burnished shreds...
above a ragged wall of black pine trees
lining the narrow road sporadically lit—
where I and this form of a shadow split.
~Kokoro Sonzai 2010 (trans. Son Rivers)
HOUSMAN’S FLOWERS: I HOED AND TRENCHED AND WEEDED - Today we will take a look at poem # 63 — LXIII in Latin numerals — the last poem in Alfred Edward Housman’s collection A Shropshire Lad: I HOED AND TRENCHE...
2 weeks ago