Art songs, poems by Dwale.
+p.26
The seasonal storms have poured upon the grassy flat,
The leafless stalks abound like thirsty mouths.
Puddles form and soon are swarmed with little fish,
@@ -28,7 +29,24 @@ At once he feels his lungs become bereft of breath,
His daughter nudges him, to no effect.
She walks away rememb’ring days they stalked the plains,
Within her womb there grows a golden bloom.
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+- u u - u u - u- u
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+- u - u - u - u - u- u
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+- u - u - u -u -u - u
+- u- u- u - u -u
+- u -u -u- u - u - u
+-u - u - u - u- u
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+p.8
Summer, season of hot insomnia,
That much never seems to change at all.
Laying awake in the red desert night,
@@ -45,6 +63,7 @@ I bandage my tattered, bitten left hand
And shed the smoke rings on my cloven finger.
Face down in the leaves
+p.9
We crawl through moist humus like millipedes,
Feasting on dirt and dead, crumbling leaves
While striped skies cycle through violet hues,
@@ -66,6 +85,7 @@ Alive, a god to mites and mud-daubers.
The harvestmen scuttle and bob onwards.
Dirt Garden
+p.5
My garden of foxtails and milk-thistle,
Alive and wild, more so than tended rows
In growth, has died. I killed them a little,
@@ -227,7 +247,7 @@ We take this evening’s cool
(Mi no ue no kane tomo shirade yusuzumi - p.39 - summer)