The Bells - Śrî Ānanda Āchārya

Alone all night I watched the stars 
        through the opening in my Cave, 
And the springing rays of the Northern 
        Light came as welcome guests to 
        my door, 

I saw my hand - Oktay Rifat

While drinking water I saw my hand
Softly fuzzed with pink holes
I said hi there, hi there hand of mine
Pick up a wineglass pick up a fork pick up a pencil

And when the time comes avoid
Picking up a sword picking up a gun
My brave young lad my lion my lovely one

My land - Martin Camaj

When I die, may I turn into grass
On my mountains in spring,
In autumn I will turn to seed.

Obstinate - Ephrem Seyoum

When your good-for-nothing lover
said the beginning and end of
wisdom
is in the smoking of a cigarette
you laughed

GSIS XIII: 745 - Izumi Shikibu

If completely
Cold were we

Oh, teach me - Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger

Oh, teach me, thou forest, to testify glad,
As in autumn the gloom of thy yellowing leaf,
That my spring cometh back after winter the sad,
That my tree gleameth green after mournfulness brief.
The roots of my tree stand strong, deep, and divine
In eternity's summer; oh, why then repine?

Lift the goblets, loud and glinting - Jens Peter Jacobsen

Lift the goblets, loud and glinting
That the burgundy is tinting
Red as dusky rubies are.

Let him be - Hazeem Hazmi

The boy that walks alone from school
You see him not knowing how he feels
He sits there empty away all that is real
You don’t know anything

Looking over the sheep one evening - Danzangiin Nyamsüren

The shapes of homesteads, like a hundred white sheep,
blench the summer pastures like a growth of mushrooms.

Caprice (A Summer’s Day, Sydney Harbour) - Louis Esson

Blue and gold, and mist and sunlight,
Veils of colour blent and blown
In melodic monotone.