eBook - ePub
Sabishi
Poems from Japan
David Hassler
This is a test
Share book
- 28 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
Sabishi
Poems from Japan
David Hassler
Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations
About This Book
These poems are like yen the color and the size of dollars. They are American poems, they are English, but they almost seem like versions of the Japanese. The music is lovely and the form is graceful. They are a delight to read.-Gerald Stem
Frequently asked questions
How do I cancel my subscription?
Can/how do I download books?
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
What is the difference between the pricing plans?
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlegoâs features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan youâll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
What is Perlego?
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, weâve got you covered! Learn more here.
Do you support text-to-speech?
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Is Sabishi an online PDF/ePUB?
Yes, you can access Sabishi by David Hassler in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literatur & Poesie. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
O-BON
In sweltering August, on the last night
of o-bon, the three-day festival for the dead,
I arrive in the village of Komagome.
Families sit out at night on their front porches,
drinking tea or sake and tasting sweets,
wearing those cotton robes they slip into
after bathingâbright, loose yukatas.
Doors are left wide: orange paper lanterns
flicker to light the way for the dead,
who are invited to return to their homes.
Tables are set with their favorite foods
and flowers, instruments and books laid out
that they might want to use again.
On the first day the families went to meet
the souls of the dead at the waterâs edge,
and tonight they will accompany them back.
Everyone is gathered in a small park,
the ground neatly raked. Lanterns hang
from trees and around a small wooden stage,
where women in kimonos dance slowly in a circle
to the music of drum and flute.
One summer I danced the polka
with my mother on a bandstand downtown
at the corner of Main and Water. We galloped
and spun as I held her hand, feeling the back
of the nylon dress she had sewn, white
with a little red and blue somewhere in it.
Here, the women lift their arms, appearing
only slightly from sleeves, where
plum blossoms and cranes drop softly away.
They turn their hands like fans and dance alone.
If I could I would find my motherâs dress.
I would pick a bouquet of dandelions and place
the soft hearts of artichokes on clean,
shiny plates. I would put on the Mamas and the Papas
or Blood, Sweat and Tears; leave by the back door,
the house bright and open behind me,
and down to the river,
curving just beyond our yard,
to meet her at the ...