West a business breast, North a morose jig, East a false
escape, South steam in milk.
North the great cat, East the great water, South the great
fire, West the great arrow.
East the uneager fingers, South the damp cave, West the
chained ankle, North the rehearsed cry.
Wondered Knob-Cracker at Stout-Heart:
‘Are you timed by your will, does your pulse
List credit, ready to slam like a till?
Can you keep it up? ’
Growled Beard Splitter to Smug:
‘Your forces delay, bibbing at Northern walls
While snow drives rifts between, barring the way.
I am sufficient. ’
The Doctor is glimpsed among his mulberry trees.
The dark fruits disfigure the sward like contusions.
He is at once aloof, timid, intolerant
Of all banalities of village life,
And yet is stupefied by loneliness.
From the beginning, the egg cradled in pebbles,
The drive thick with fledglings, to the known last
Riot of the senses, is only a short pass.
Earth to be forked over is more patient,
Bird hungers more, flower dies sooner.
He went to the city and goosed all the girls
With a stall on his finger for whittling the wills
To a clause in his favour and Come to me Sally,
One head in my chambers and one up your alley
And I am as old as my master.
We’re through, we’re through, we’re through, we’re through, we’re through
and — flanking, now, the edges of our schism —
it seems your coldness and my idealism
alone for all this time have kept us true.
Credulous I and hedonistic you:
opposed, refracting angles of a prism
who challenged sense with childish skepticism —
and every known the bulk of mankind knew.
As if the flow of the waters
From the triple streams of heavenly showers
So the sacred Ao of the eighth heavens
Whose flames have scorched the land.
Chorus:
Should our hearts’ love be restored
And our rights be ours once more
Then will our sacred beloved shoals of Kane
Be the firm foundation of the land.
Listen, Sanoe
Dewy lehua bud
Here I am
Waiting for your voice.
The answer comes
I am satisfied
Softly, sweetheart
You excite my whole being.
My body is waiting
Waiting there in yearning belief
How are we to fulfill
The desire of our thoughts?
Calling to you, my water lily
Budding for the two of us
Here close by is a compliment
The manu comes to deliver.
The Queen is listening
The aroma of the scents comes together
Mixes and rises upward
So similar, so alike.
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
“It is futile, ” I said,
“You can never — ”
“You lie, ” he cried,
And ran on.
Once there came a man
Who said:
“Range me all men of the world in rows.”
And instantly
There was a terrific clamor among the people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who stayed in the bloody scuffle
Knew not the great simplicity.
