THE HOO OF HAIKU

WHEN I THINK OF IT

2009-07-16T10:03:00.001+02:00

When I think of it,
Life becomes complicated,
When I think of it…

Tomato lovers,
Take part in it – it's natural:
Tomato Art Fest.

The eccentric dance
Of the wagtail in the air:
Catch-as-catch-can.

Ah, I can feel it:
The humming of a thunder
On my ear-drum.

With my jogger’s lamp
Looking for the green pear
Hid behind the fridge.

Mining for wonders
Of creation don’t forget
The Creator, man!

Arms high in the air,
The shadow of a dwarf tree
Sings praise to the sun.

Has it not been said
That all living beings strive,
Secretly, to die.

Make sure to be there,
Lovers of art and nature:
Tomato Art Fest.

In Adashi Field,
The butterflies seem to be
Without any sin.*

Forever leaving
Behind the cave-dweller’s self,
Roaming in pure light.

Don’t be distracted –
Listen to the nightingale:
The song of the One.

*Paraphrasing Issa.

PROMOTION

2009-06-28T20:13:00.001+02:00

Train, no use whistling!
Again you’ll run down the road
Crossing the railway.

What to expect from
The story of an old stone:
A long, long silence.

From a young barmaid –
To help an old chain-smoker:
Promotion lighter.

2009-06-08T07:22:00.001+02:00

Was it a sparrow:
Triggering in flight my thought
Of the first swallow!?

2009-06-05T07:28:00.001+02:00

Making obeisance
To the sun in the mown lawn:
Little tree shadow.

2009-06-05T07:26:00.000+02:00

Ants, don’t you know it!?
Honey in the jar may turn
Into a graveyard.

2009-06-02T01:09:00.001+02:00

A few drops of rain:
The black redstart starts to run
Down the garden path.

2009-06-01T11:01:00.000+02:00

Pentecost Sunday:
A young crow on a chimney
Cries for food at dusk.

2009-06-01T10:53:00.001+02:00

Contorted shadow
Of a little tree on grass:
Man’s 2D false self.

2009-06-01T09:05:00.001+02:00

It’s the first of June:
Where have all fireflies gone,
Now that it’s so fresh!?

NO, NOT AGAIN

2009-05-31T08:54:00.000+02:00

Getting cold again:
No nightingale, no crickets…
Not even a frog.

Between two houses,
Brown butterflies flee the sun…
Carried by the wind.

Little clouds of May
Held in a glass of water
By the empty sky.

The sound of water –
Not even that can be heard:
A frog in my throat.

2009-05-30T11:11:00.001+02:00

Getting cold again:
No nightingale, no crickets…
Not even a frog.

2009-05-30T09:31:00.000+02:00

Little clouds of May
Held in a glass of water
By the empty sky.

2009-05-25T13:47:00.001+02:00

Between two houses,
Brown butterflies flee the sun…
Carried by the wind.

AN EVENING IN MAY

2009-05-23T21:04:00.003+02:00

Doing some research
In the dustbin of my life…
Not much to expect.

Man, wait a moment:
If you seek eternity,
It is here and now.

Going hand in hand:
Women are so practical,
Men are so abstract.

‘I’m not a model,’
The young barmaid’s T-shirt says,
‘I just look like one.’

Mist in the distance…
Must be ten thousand bushels
Of it at the gate!?*

Young merrymakers.
The nightingale sings loudly.
Where the hell’s the moon!?

What is the role of
Fireflies in my garden?
Scientists will know.

The first firefly!
The dustbin will have to wait.
An evening in May.

*Paraphrasing Issa.

NEXT TO NOTHING

2009-04-25T17:16:00.001+02:00

Next to its lush mate –
On the replanted lilac:
Two tiny blossoms.

When nothing happens,
Women commit suicide.
Men – when they are lost.

I am what I am:
Carrier of chamber pots.
Rainy April night.

2009-04-25T17:00:00.001+02:00

Next to its lush mate –
On the replanted lilac:
Two tiny blossoms.

2009-04-25T10:02:00.001+02:00

I am what I am:
Carrier of chamber pots.
Rainy April night.

TOTAL SILENCE: THE AROMA OF TRUTH

2009-04-24T10:51:00.003+02:00

You're a lucky one,
if you travel to the stars,
and you miss a train.

Oh, perfume seller,
Through the aroma of truth
You’ll find the essence.

The horse has farted,
Making me wake up and see:
Flitting fireflies.*

The foreign language
Of inner meaning of things
Has to be learnt first.

Hazy April night.
A big white cat approaches
In total silence.

*Paraphrasing Issa.

UNDER THE SPELL OF THE LOVED ONE

2009-04-22T09:26:00.000+02:00

Frogs croak at midnight.
A peacock cries in a tree.
The nightingale sings.

The cat that prefers
The nightingale to a mouse
Is a romantic.

Even a mad dog
Will fall under the spell of
A blooming lilac.

Ah, the nightingale:
To impress his loved one,
He perfects his song.

WHY

2009-04-16T07:56:00.001+02:00

With each new midnight,
Your song is more beautiful,
Say why, nightingale!?

THE CANTERBURY TALES

2009-04-15T08:51:00.004+02:00

I guess it’s Easter.
Man strives to rise from the dead.
No time for tall tales.

My mom’s midnight call
For somebody to shut up
Her alarm clock.

Spring at my table:
Blushing under the old tree…
The barmaid Alma.

One must be a fool,
One who can laugh at oneself,
Knowing he is one!

As every midnight:
The song of the nightingale
In the cage of spring.

A new cycle starts,
Like Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales,
In April showers.

ALARM CALL

2009-04-15T00:33:00.001+02:00

My mom’s midnight call
For somebody to shut up
Her alarm clock.

ALMA

2009-04-15T00:32:00.000+02:00

Spring at my table:
Blushing under the old tree…
The barmaid Alma.

THE SPRING OF SONG

2009-04-15T00:31:00.002+02:00

As every midnight:
The song of the nightingale
In the cage of spring.

A SOLITARY LAUGH

2009-04-12T19:53:00.004+02:00

Sunny Easter Day:
A little girl is chasing
Her own soap bubble.

Three crows learn to use
Columns of warm air to glide…
The day Jesus rose.

Easter Sunday walk…
Dahlia who makes me laugh
Comes out of nowhere.

A solitary bee
Works through a dandelion…
Sunny Easter Day.