Haiku # 702

Autumn moon…
I too am a traveller
in a nomad sky

~

Wind in the trees…
for a moment my soul
found its wings

Le vent dans les arbres…
pour un moment mon âme
a trouvé ses ailes

…الريحُ في الأشجار
للحظةٍ وجدت
روحي أجنحتها

Haiku # 701

Autumn
one leaf then another
falls in the wind

الخريف
ورقة ثم أخرى
تقع في الريح

~

September
through the woods I take
the long way home

~

September
you’ll find my heart buried
in a pile of yellow leaves

~

I breathe her in
as though her skin
is the light of the moon

~

Autumn evening
my thoughts drifting
with the passing clouds

~

Deep in the forest
I find my heart still
like the air and leaves

~

Forever is just a word
between us
and the moon

~

الخريفُ يبدأ
برائحةِ الأرض أُعَطَّر
زوايا روحي

~

هو يحب النساء اللواتي
يعرفن كيف يتحولن إلى شعر
بين يديه

Haiku # 699

Last stand of August
amid the passing clouds
a waning moon

~

Not her skin
it undresses her feelings
moon in the sky

ليسَ بَشَرَتِها
هو يُعَرّي مَشاعِرَها
القَمَرْ في السَماء

~

Sleep can wait
another minute to gaze
at the silent moon

~

The trail of kisses he left
at night she feels it
burning on her skin

~

كلما صمتّ
قليلاً سمعته في قلبي
حفيف الذكريات

~

المرأة التي أحبّ
على بشرتها أخطّ
قصائد روحي

~

هذه الوحدة
بدونها لكنت وجهاً
آخر يمشي معِ الحشودْ

Haiku # 698

Unfinished poem…
at dusk I sit watching
a leaf in the wind

~

Loneliness –
without it I’d be
just a face in the crowd

~

Moonflower
her body in my bed
burning softly

~

Sous la lune d’été
sa peau nue sauf
de la chaleur de ses baisers

تحت ضوء القمر
بشرتها العارية الا
من حرارة قبلاته

Summer moon…
her bare skin covered
in the warmth of his kiss

Haiku # 685

يلفظ الكلمات كأنها
…أوراق خريف تتساقط
!الشاعر

~

Autumn returns
and my heart fills
with a nameless longing

~

La nuit descend…
dans un coin de mon cœur
s’allume une chandelle

~

Autumn evening
I light a candle
and open my book

~

Itinerant heart –
no house but the road,
no home but the wind…

~

Steeping my tea
as the moon quietly
looks through the window

Haiku # 659

Clinging to summer’s heat
the autumn rain balming
the lips of flowers

~

On her white petals
the autumn rain clinging
to summer’s heat

~

Steering the rudder
the boat staggers
as drunk as he

~

This path to nowhere
I walk it alone
with nothing but a bag

~

Deathbed haiku…
the poet’s last breath
returns to the sky

~

Photograph by Jai Johnson

…قلبي وما بقي منه
طيور تهاجر
في قمر الخريف

Haibun # 3

A crow flies below the crescent moon at twilight as the first star appears in the darkening sky. The sound of running water from a nearby stream mixes with the voices of the dying day. Something from the deep is sounding, but for who?—and what does it all mean?

With a thread of fragrance
I tie my poem
to the sail of the moon

Avec un fil de parfum
j’attache mon poème
au voile de la lune