Danielionita1960 - translations added

From all we’ve said, and all we hail,
remains a tear, bewildered, shy
an ancient poem, lonely tale,
which of itself will fade and die.

And if my early songs shall end
And I, a stranger to return
My speech forgetting to defend
The holy ground where I was born

Three dull men walking all day
Saw a bear along the way
Pretty scared climbing the glen
To take refuge in its den.

The drought killed every breeze, and its fever won’t yield,
Sun rays melted on high and have leaked on the field.
All that’s left is the sky – empty, hot and forlorn.
Buckets draw filthy mud from the fountains which mourn.

With my left hand, I turned your face towards me,
beneath the tent of the sleepy quince tree,
and if my gaze could leave your eyes and wander,
the sweep of even sky would velvet be.

sentimental story
Later on, we met more often.
I stood on one side of the hour,
you – on the other,

Tonight we depart for the shore of my island,
the coach made of walnut is waiting, my dear,
remember to take some warm clothes and a garland,
and rush, for police dogs are wont to appear.

my lord
one can no more compete today
the Japanese cup's in a shattered state
and black, the coffee dregs seem to convey

The ending has arrived without a warning.
You're happy now? I see you wear a ring.
I understand, and sever without mourning
The useless hope. You follow the same thing!

A tomcat I desired to be
with upward tail, a stripy coat,
long claws, long whiskers, hissy throat,
with eyes, one green, one brown, you see.