Toad
Born rough-skinned and wart-faced,
He Squats like some cold stone
In somber crannies, dank low corners,
Churlishly alone.
At times his flickering tongue
Licks up an ant or two.
So what, you say: all creatures
Act as they're born to do.
But some are born to do evil.
Had it the strength and size,
That creature would destroy the world:
Nothing can disguise
The chill malignancy of mind
Behind those glittering eyes.
Ly Dao Tai (1254-1334)
River Landing
Blue cooking-smokes obscure the sagging thatch
Of the few crude dwellings ranged near the landing-Plank
Where a single boat, bound downstream, briefly lolls.
Three of the rat-like children crouched to catch
Crabs in the mud-flats of the river-bank
Carry banana-leaves as parasols.
Thai Thuan (originally an army elephant trainer, he graduated to the mandarinate in 1475)
Two Months Drought
It was floods last year: now this year it is drought.
The rice-fields, high and low, are bare as bone:
In both, the scoops for sloshing the water out
Hang idly dry. And we live by yams alone.
The readers of clouds and rainbows, blind with sun,
Groan that, till late July, there was nothing but frost
And when two or three gather to talk about what can be done
The tax-man joins them. Run, or you're really lost.
Pham Quy Thich (1760-1825)
Spendthrift
There are thirty-six thousand days
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