Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Chasing the moon, 2009

 

 

INVICTUS
By William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.
 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.
 

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

 

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Spring is arriving late this year to the swamps. I let all of my precious potted plants die, so I'll be starting anew with fresh everything come Spring.  Thank God for seeds.  No flowers or blooms yet, only a few brave weeds. 

 

xo,

Marion

 

 

 Awake, thou wintry earth -
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness!
~Thomas Blackburn, "An Easter Hymn"

 

 

Shade by Tada Chimako

Full Winter Moon Photo by Marion

Tada Chimako (1930 - 2003) was one of the most important female poets of contemporary Japan.  During her life, she published eight volumes of essays and thirteen volumes of poetry.  She is also the author of one volume of poetry in English translation, "Moonstone Woman", compiled while she was poet-in-residence at Oakland University in 1986.  She died of cancer in early 2003.  Jeffrey Angles, (translator) recently completed his Ph.D. in modern Japanese literature and is currently working on a book of translations of Ms. Tada's poetry.

Shade
By Tada Chimako

A dark elephant
living in a dark forest
came to sip from a pond
as the Buddha watched

A dark elephant
from a dark forest
has come to the pond
and sipped
the trembling vision
of the Moon.

A dark deer
from a dark forest
also came to sip from the pond.

The deer has also sipped
the vision of the moon.

The Buddha leaned over
and scooped up the moon in his palm.

I too will sip
if it will illuminate my heart
just a little.

More than two thousand years
after the Buddha's death
His remains have been divided endlessly
only imaginary numbers can count
the tiles atop the reliquary pagodas
that stretch into the sky
three stories, five stories, seven stories...

As a person of brightness
living now in a town of light,
to which pond will you go
to sip when overcome by night?
When you scoop up the water
what vision of the moon
will you find in your palm?

I too will sip
if it will shade my heart
just a little.

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My Gir, sipping some clouds...