Yellow flowers-loving girl,
how long will you fear the girl inside you;
tell me, how long will you fight yourself?

The Moon she is a pretty girl who lives up in the stars
And that old cloud he's a great old man who loves her from afar
He loves her from afar
When Lady Moon smiles down on him ol' Cloud is all a-wonder
So he starts to sing to her and that's what makes the thunder
Can't ya listen baby that's what makes the thunder
Love is just a cloudy sky as far as I can see
And that ol' cloud up in the sky he got much chance in love as me

And some dry nights she won't come out when she hears him callin'

Sing her a song of the sun:
Fill it with tones of the stream, —
Echoes of waters that run
Glad with the gladdening gleam.
Let it be sweeter than rain,
Lit by a tropical moon:
Light in the words of the strain,
Love in the ways of the tune.
Softer than seasons of sleep:
Dearer than life at its best!
Give her a ballad to keep,
Wove of the passionate West:
Give it and say of the hours —
“Haunted and hallowed of thee,
Flower-like woman of flowers,
What shall the end of them be?”

You that have loved her so much,

And of me say the fools:
I entered the lodges of women
And never left.
And they call for my hanging,
Because about the matters of my beloved
I, poetry, compose.
I never traded
Like others
In Hashish.
I never stole.
I never killed.
I, in broad day, have loved.
Have I sinned?

And of me say the fools:
With my poetry
I violated the sky’s commands.
Said who
Love is
The honor-ravager of the sky?
The sky is my intimate.
It cries if I cry,
Laughs if I laugh
And its stars

I regret bitterly
The years of loving you in both
Your presence and absence, regret
The law, the vocation
That forbid me to keep you, the sea
A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached
Beauty of the Greek ships: how
Could I have power if
I had no wish
To transform you: as
You loved my body,
As you found there
Passion we held above
All other gifts, in that single moment
Over honor and hope, over
Loyalty, in the name of that bond
I refuse you
Such feeling for your wife
As will let you
Rest with her, I refuse you

Autumn clusters surround my house just like Tao Yuanming's.
I walk full circle round the fence as the sun slowly tilts.
It's not that I love chrysanthemums more than other flowers,
but that no others will blossom after these blooms wither.

Beautiful stories wed with lovely days
Like words and music:-what shall be the tale
Of love and nobleness that might avail
To express in action what this sweetness says-

The sweetness of a day of airs and rays
That are strange glories on the winter pale?
Alas, O beauty, all my fancies fail!
I cannot tell a story in thy praise!

Thou hast, thou hast one-set, and sure to chime
With thee, as with the days of 'winter wild;'
For Joy like Sorrow loves his blessed feet
Who shone from Heaven on Earth this Christmas-time

Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring
Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;
Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons,
and good friends call,
Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the best of all,
Love, on myriad lips fairer than yours, kisses you could not give! . . .
Dearest, why should I mourn, whimper, and whine, I that have yet to live?
Sorrow will I forget, tears for the best, love on the lips of you,

The thrush that, yet alone, pipes for his mate
Knows she will come in time to build the nest,
Knows she'll be she his tiny soul loves best;
'Tis love-time at the hawthorn blossom's date:
And the new flower-cups bare their hearts and wait
While careless breezes bring them love for guest;
And Youth laughs ready for the glad unrest;
But Love that chooses lingers desolate.

And I, who seek, and yearn for love to stir,
And I, who seek, and cannot love but one
And have not known her being, nor can find,

I.

HONEY-FLOWERS to the honey-comb,
And the honey-bee's from home.
A honey-comb and a honey-flower,
And the bee shall have his hour.
A honeyed heart for the honey-comb,
And the humming bee flies home.
A heavy heart in the honey-flower,
And the bee has had his hour.


II.

A honey-cell's in the honeysuckle,
And the honey-bee knows it well.
The honey-comb has a heart of honey,
And the humming bee's so bonny.
A honey-flower's the honeysuckle,
And the bee's in the honey-bell.