Haiku to translate 1 - 100
|
 
ДЕ |
(ru) |
анекдоты
// длиннобородые -
// отрывной календарь!
|
|
ДЕ |
(ru) |
череда дней...
// оглянешься
// уже внуки |
|
ДЕ |
(ru) |
гвоздь затупился
// делать отметки дней
// в заточенье |
|
ДЕ |
(ru) |
аптечка у мамы -
// так все и просрочены
// её лекарства |
|
ДЕ |
(ru) |
"Что такое хорошо" -
// книжка
// ещё родителей |
|
Хей Хо |
(ru) |
Мужское лето
//
// Густеет летний зной
// Дорога пыльная в сельпо пуста
// О аромат лепехи впереди! |
|
roan |
(ru) |
В почтовом ящике
// Счета,рекламки
// И одинокая старость
|
|
roan |
(ru) |
Хлеб на помойке
// Там где гуляла
// Голодная смерть
|
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Surely a leader
// will have earned the title
// "Evildoer"
// who decides to start a war
// when peace is possible. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Not even
// under mortar fire
// do they flinch;
// the Buddhas of Bamiyan
// take Refuge in the dust. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Released from puja
// into star-shine and a waxing
// gibbous moon,
// we follow our separate paths
// to simple huts and solitude. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Like water
// poured into water:
// no distinction
// between self and other
// in The Mind of Tao. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
The midwinter moon
// shines dimly through low clouds.
// It's growing late,
// and I have no desire left
// for imagining what's not. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
It's best to have
// no preferences-
// what's good at first
// often turns out bad,
// and visa-versa. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Clouds gather
// and part, gather and part.
// So will we.
// Even now, it seems,
// we're gathering, parting. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Thinking about it,
// what else is there but this-
// birth, death,
// and something in between
// of uncertain duration? |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Things haven't
// turned out the way
// I wanted-
// an ocean still between us,
// with autumn deepening. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
The tangled hair
// on my pillow
// was only a dream,
// yet her scent lingered
// for a few minutes. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
What if I never
// tell her that I love her,
// and she loves me
// but also says nothing-
// what then, you fool? |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
A solitary pine,
// on a small ledge
// just below the summit-
// old and gnarled, it still
// puts up a good fight. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Having been homeless
// once myself, I now wonder
// how folks on the road
// are doing in this first snow
// of the holiday season. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
Their boughs twinkling
// with fairy lights:
// Zelkova trees
// along the boulevards
// of our sister city. |
|
Karma Tenzing Wangchuk |
(en) |
I let the crickets
// wander about my room
// as they please,
// and if they want to make noise-
// well, that's ok by me! |
|
Doris H. Thurston |
(en) |
rain barrel
// singing
// its overflow song |
|
Doris H. Thurston |
(en) |
rain cloud
// the day blows in
// through sunshine |
|
Angela Terry |
(en) |
golf course at night
// deer playing through
// the rough |
|
Angela Terry |
(en) |
pink receiving blankets
// stacked in the corner
// budding cherry |
|
Dean Summers |
(en) |
before dawn
// the Quaker Oats man
// a little too cheerful |
|
Carmen Sterba |
(en) |
invasive species
// the nature guide prods
// each plant with his foot |
|
Joan D. Stamm |
(en) |
on the backs of rocks
// hikers
// crossing the stream |
|
Ann Spiers |
(en) |
a thousand cuts
// the old cherry ready for viewing |
|
Ann Spiers |
(en) |
in the snow, raccoons
// circumambulatory
// I, too, do the rounds |
|
Ann Spiers |
(en) |
summer’s last hour:
// a yellow-jacket settles
// in my garden glove |
|
Marilyn Sandall |
(en) |
her memorial service—
// in the silence
// his deep bow |
|
Marilyn Sandall |
(en) |
bones beneath
// hospital sheets
// my father smaller |
|
Marilyn Sandall |
(en) |
weekend athlete
// learning anatomy
// ache by ache |
|
Helen Russell |
(en) |
receding ranges
// of mountains—
// the bus is waiting |
|
Helen Russell |
(en) |
the drag with the paddle
// holds our course
// summer afternoon |
|
Stephen A. Peters |
(en) |
false spring
// the steam rising
// from woolen gloves |
|
Stephen A. Peters |
(en) |
scudding clouds
// the bride expresses
// second thoughts |
|
Stephen A. Peters |
(en) |
class reunion
// the most likely to succeed
// borrows a cigarette |
|
Stephen A. Peters |
(en) |
hospital light
// a shirt turned
// inside out |
|
Carol O’Dell |
(en) |
with soft lips
// she plucks the purple thistle
// shetland pony |
|
Carol O’Dell |
(en) |
the kite soars
// to the end of the string
// indigo sky |
|
Mary Fran Meer |
(en) |
faint strains
// float over the teahouse
// silken koto strings |
|
Tanya McDonald |
(en) |
fifteen years later
// hoping I don't, like,
// still talk that way |
|
Rita Mazur |
(en) |
after his stroke
// he shows me morning dew
// caught in cobwebs
// places a yellow rose
// on my pillow |
|
Rita Mazur |
(en) |
the brightening moon . . .
// yapping of coyote pups
// between new shadows |
|
C. R. Manley |
(en) |
watching the garden
// quiet into darkness—
// everyone else shopping |
|
Winifred Jaeger |
(en) |
shards on the floor
// the blue pottery bowl
// one of a pair |
|
Christopher Herold |
(en) |
dragonfly . . .
// a stream of thought pauses
// on the stone Buddha |
|
Christopher Herold |
(en) |
woodsmoke
// moonlight changing directions
// with the wind |
|
Jay Haskins |
(en) |
spring fever
// the morning crossword
// left undone |
|
William Scott Galasso |
(en) |
smudge of fog
// in the cave, in the cove
// sound of breaking surf |
|
Ida Freilinger |
(en) |
plastic blossom—
// the wee hummer feeder
// is half empty |
|
Ida Freilinger |
(en) |
shoveling compost—
// smoke rises from
// the inner heap |
|
Ida Freilinger |
(en) |
the crab apple tree
// its white blossoms
// tipped with snow |
|
Ida Freilinger |
(en) |
red, yellow tulips
// how they turn my attention
// to that corner plot |
|
Seren Fargo |
(en) |
spring warm-up
// birds practice their
// mating calls |
|
Michael L. Evans |
(en) |
Agate Beach—
// finally finding one
// in a gift shop |
|
Michael L. Evans |
(en) |
midnight snow
// my thoughts drift
// to the white chessmen |
|
Mike Dillon |
(en) |
flag-draped coffin:
// one who set out in a crowd
// returns home alone |
|
Mike Dillon |
(en) |
instead
// I came here:
// wind in the reeds |
|
Terran Campbell |
(en) |
after I pass
// the squirrel statue
// moves |
|
Terran Campbell |
(en) |
thriftstore shopper
// redeeming
// the unwanted |
|
Robert Bruntil |
(en) |
High country
// Across the flank of the butte
// Coyote
|
|
Robert Bruntil |
(en) |
Pruning and working in dirt
// Early but so much to do
// Seeing the sap rising in you |
|
Shirley W. Beebe |
(en) |
only the yellow sun
// rivals the light
// of the first dandelion |
|
Shirley W. Beebe |
(en) |
winter pansies
// on the porch
// light the world |
|
Shirley W. Beebe |
(en) |
yellow crunchers clang
// the forest backs away
// a new house rises |
|
Shirley W. Beebe |
(en) |
morning sun glistens
// on frosted tree trunks—
// tea warms my hands |
|
Robert Major |
(en) |
reading by lamplight;
// sounds of a summer night
// press against the screen |
|
Robert Major |
(en) |
mosquito larvae—
// sudden fits of motion
// in the rain barrel |
|
Elizabeth Kusuda |
(en) |
Drizzling—
// Rain drops take longer
// To fall |
|
Elizabeth Kusuda |
(en) |
Blue sky and sunshine—
// A lull in the rainy season
// Everything revived |
|
Elizabeth Kusuda |
(en) |
Crisp blue sky
// The fir tip
// Rests a crow |
|
Elizabeth Kusuda |
(en) |
Midnight before dawn
// Two coyotes hunting
// Without color |
|
Elizabeth Kusuda |
(en) |
Soft greens
// And cherries full bloom
// But peace? |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
clearer, higher
// he blows the horn
// to the new moon |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
bird house empty of seed
// even the jays
// look for Bernard |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
his laugh rings out—
// no need for the fisherman
// to exaggerate |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
drawing a house
// with a fenced-in yard
// the deaf boy |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
hospital vigil
// the imperceptible shift
// of clouds |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
lilac buds
// affirming the earth
// and its fullness |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
finding my father
// in a Franz Hals painting—
// how his eyes twinkle |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
Michaelangelo
// tapped his Moses on the knee:
// arise and walk!
// I kiss the cherry-red mouth
// on the canvas |
|
Francine Porad |
(en) |
I raise my head
// from his chest, heartbeats
// to crickets |
|
Garry Gay |
(en) |
one moth
// a thousand candles
// light the darkness |
|
Ken Hurm |
(en) |
lightning...
// the scarecrow's coat sleeve
// caught in mid-wave |
|
Ron Moss |
(en) |
Charcoal Alley -
// children flick marbles
// into the light |
|
Pamela A. Babusci |
(en) |
shakuhachi concert
// between notes
// I gaze at the moon
|
|
Kirsty Karkow |
(en) |
irises in bloom—
// the stiffness of shirts
// warm from the line |
|
Tim Singleton |
(en) |
dappled light
// another gust
// of maple keys
|
|
Joan M. Murphy |
(en) |
thistle seeds…
// the yellow finch
// sings its thanks |
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
cloudy water
// in the bud vase—
// children grown and gone
|
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
thunderclap—
// on the billboard the word “big”
// big |
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
Independence Day—
// slipping into the lake
// for a midnight swim |
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
mallard pair
// he rocks
// on her wake |
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
moving day
// warm rain
// on cardboard |
|
Alice Frampton |
(en) |
last goodbye -
// scent of his wool coat
// deeper into my nose |
