Haiku #690

690.

Even the muddiest
Up-dug, bramble-bogged garden
Is made pure by frost.

Una Lucciola

Hai visto quello che ho visto
Qui tra i salici;
Una lucciola in oro e verde,
Pesciolini lontani nell’aria.

Le sue vene sono piene di tempo
La sua pelle è gentilezza dorata;
Ipnotizzato dall’innocenza,
Il miracolo di mia altezza.

Se vedi la tua lucciola
Attraverso gli alberi favolosi,
Lascia che la perdita si riposi un po’,
I suoi miracoli sono nell’aria.

Ode To Beauty

Describing physical beauty
Should never begin with a form,
Society’s circular cruelties
Turn falsehoods into the norm.

So firstly undressing a kindness
For so long stowed in your heart,
Sharing love’s like-mindedness,
Sublimer sleeps the art.

All love is loving in layers,
Our bodies are only the start;
I’d rather see your soul flourished,
Where the lips of souls then part.

A Lunar Love

When stars advance
To where we now can see,
Their light-love travelled just so far
To where we had to be.

Constellations slowly move
And not as sequined heroes,
Our perspectives only prove
False gods are shaped like zeroes.

I’m glad that we are nearer now
Than source-springs of a myth;
My goddess is the meaning now
Of distance in life’s gifts.