Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Morning Light at Pond Hill

Morning Light at Pond Hill
Originally uploaded by jhhymas
Now it is evening; the sun's gone down and another day is almost over. My grandson is doing his English homework on the couch. My husband has a dog and a crossword puzzle on his lap. The windows hold the warm reflections of lighted lamps. I have been reading Santoka's haiku, in John Steven's translations

the moon rises
I'm not waiting for anything

nothing remains
of the house I was born in

after all
it's good to be alone--
the wild grasses

These haiku are quiet and often sad, I reccomend them.
Santoka lived from 1882-1940. Times were very different then, but human life had many of the same qualities, dilemmas and problems.

And for some reason, this picture I took a few days ago reminded me of this fragment of verse that is hundreds of years old.


Up and down the meadow where the sheep graze echo,
fadingly as afterthoughts, the cries of quail.

SATYRUS, 2nd century C.E.
in the translation by Brooks Haxton

May the meadows where you live be evergreen or snow-covered, or filled with wildflowers or lashed with rain, each in their season. And always, alive with birds.

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