HAIKU Jesen Jedan mladi ždral (Jesen) Jedan mladi ždral izvodi svoj čudan ples uz prodoran pjev. Oblaci plove i u krajeve nove kišu donose. Jesenska kiša kao iz kabla lije, zemlja je pije. Kiša rominja, ptice žalosne sjede na mokroj grani. Mjesec se skrio u oblake umotan gdje sniva svoj san. Kad je jesen tu, tad je nizak ptičji let a cvrkut im blag. Da li još ima riba u toj rječici il' je samo mulj? Lijepi ljetni cvijet zašto mora venuti, posve nestati? Prolaznost traje. Pogledaj proljetni pup i cvijet ujesen. Puni mjesec sja, na plotu od bambusa pjesma cvrčaka. Noć je, hrast je sam i mjesečinu čeka da dođe sjena. Iz tame strše samo vršci grančica - stablo čeka dan. Navrh stabala šušti šum vjetrom nošen - tamo daleko. U jednom trenu ruše se stara zdanja - nakon stoljeća. Blijedi sad mjesec sije svoj žućkasti sjaj po pustoj stazi. Vodene kapi čekaju u oblaku početak kiše. Ostao si sam i tražiš novu sreću - ona te čeka. Vjetar odnosi cvijeće koje si brao i njoj ga dao. Cvijeća tu nema - ostade samo trava i uspomene. Mjesečev se trak pružio na krevet njen, prazan i hladan. Zaborav tone, a iz mora vremena izranja nada. U nadi je spas; ako nestane nade, nestat će i nas. Kandže se stežu, vjetar grančicu ljulja a ptica drijema. To vjetar puše, diže prašinu s tla, nosi suhi list. Zrakom leti list, i tiho na tlo pada gdje čeka svoj kraj. Dok rijeka buja, poplava brzo skriva kućice stare. Usnulom zvonu jedan će pokret klatna dati novi zvuk. Sjena sve duža kako se sunce spušta - ona putuje. Čuj te sove zov! Gle, nad šumom mjesec pun tjera ovu noć. Na stazi je trn podao, šiljast i crn - čeka nožicu. Život je vihor što trnje na put nosi pa ga odnosi. Dodir je ruke mekan kao topla riječ - kad je čovjek sam. Spustila se noć, groblje prekriva tama. Ona još kleči! Šarene gljive rasute oko panja - a u njima smrt. Dalje: Zima . . . Next: Winter Haiku - Sadržaj . . . Directory HOME

Autumn A Very Young Crane (Autumn) A very young crane makes its remarkable dance singing very loud. Clouds are just flying from far-away to our place bringing the hailstorm. The autumn rain is always raining very hard, the earth swallows it. It is raining hard, birds are sitting sad and wet upon the damp branch. The moon is hidden enveloped in the clouds dreaming its dream. When the autumn comes then the birds fly very low their twitter is soft. Are there any fish in our troubled rivers or the river silt? Why must spring flowers so beautiful and sweet disappear so soon? The passage of time one can see by watching buds and roses in spring. The full moon oft shines upon the fence of bamboo while cicadas sing. An oak stands alone waiting the moon comes out and its shadow comes. Out of the darkness one can see peaks of branches and trees wait the day. On the peak of trees it murmurs gone with the wind somewhere far-away. Just at a short time some old buildings are pulled down after centuries. The pale shining moon spreads its yellow glittering on the lonely way. The water droplets are waiting in the cloud beginning to rain. You are now alone looking after your fortune it's waiting for you. The wind takes away the nice flower you have picked to give it to her. Flowers are here no more just some grass is still alive and remembrances. The beam of the moon has spread over her bed, empty and quite cold. Oblivion sinks and out of the sea of time new hope will emerge. The hope will save us; if the hope disappears, we disappear. Claws are tightening, the wind is swinging the twig and the bird still sleeps. The wind is blowing and it is rasing the dust carrying the dried leaf. A leaf is flying falling still upon the earth where it waits its end. While a river swalls, the flash flood overflows all, big and small houses. To the sleeping bell one move of its clapper give just a new sound. Shadows are longer as much as the sun sets down - so they go away. Listen to the owl! Watch the full moon above woods driving off the night. A thorn on the way abject, pointed and black - waiting for a foot. The life is a wind that brings thorns upon the way then takes them away. The touch of a hand as soft as the kindest word when one stays alone. It is pitch dark now, graveyard is covered by night, she is still kneeling. Colorful mushrooms strewn around the rotten stump, they hide sometimes death.