Improvisations

My thoughts are fish That dwell in a twilight Of green waters: They are silver fish That dart here and there Streaking the still water Of a pond. My thoughts are birds That have hung their nests Near the sun: They are yellow birds That drift on stretched wings Over a sea untroubled By a sail. My thoughts are beasts That crouch and wait In a black forest. My thoughts are apes That clamber through the tree-tops Towards the moon.

In winter People intensify Their individuality In houses. In spring By the side of lakes Beneath trees People walk Vaguely sentimental. In summer Lying upon the warm earth They hear the grass grow; Or they become impersonal In a contemplation Of stars. In autumn People dispel The characteristic Melancholy of the season With a cup of tea.

Rare delight, That of hanging By one’s tail Over a pond. Rare delight, That of seeing A green monkey In the sky. Rare delight, That of reaching up With one’s paw To touch it. Rare delight, That of finding The strange one In the water. Rare delight, That of clasping The belovèd In death.