Regret
Harsh cicadas with
Heat—I wished to cut
Down their pine chorus.
~ Yayu [Englished by Phillip Whidden]
When cold times come, I
Wish that they live on, at least
One in its autumn.
~ Yayu [Englished by Phillip Whidden]
The combination of the August heat
With insect torture, endless noise, bore hate
Within his heart, its fury so replete
He wanted axe and death. He wanted fate
Within his hands. The near immortal tree
He would have chopped to kill cicadas’ sound.
His loathing swelled like bile, acidity.
He would have spilled it on the pine trees’ ground.
At worst the August seemed eternal in
Its torture. Heat, humidity and screech
Of insect lust well symbolized life’s sin
In unremitting chitin overreach.
The autumn brought on slaughtered six-legged song.
He wished for one last voice among pines’ throng.
© Phillip Whidden 
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