Monday, and: Horse

Monday

Translated by Lisa Katz

So what did we have?
The sweet scent of jasmine,
the painted orange sun
discovered suddenly
while cutting the persimmon in half
at the first volley of light.
The chicory flowers'
morning blue,
the entire meadow,
a cluster of snails
on top of a sea onion stalk
and there was also the word "wagtail."
What else was there?
The cicada requiem,
pink sheep in the sloping sky,
and the soft, much-kissed down
on the bottom of the cat's ear
and that's it, I think
that's what we had
today.

Horse

Translated by Lisa Katz

Can this be the one and only horse
whose skin quivers under my hand?

Can this be the sea neighing
manes of foam,
can this be the soul horse?

Can this be the dream horse,
winged, eating from the palm of my hand,
the Prussian blue horse?

Can this be my obsessional horse?

The soft foal stamping toward me
under the awning of your eyelashes,
can this be the literary horse?

Oh archetypal horse,
cause of all horses,
can this be the final horse?