1/ Flower

Dreams are severed fruit
Auburn pears have fallen in the field
Parsley blooms on the plate
The leghorn at times seems to have six fingers
I crack the egg and the moon comes out



2/ It Is Snowing

Upstairs from us, a grand ball! 

Devious angels dance in disorder, and out of their steps fall shards of deathly white snow. 

Death is among the holly leaves. Crawling quietly in the attic.
Gnawing at my finger. Anxiously. And then at midnight—it falls at the storefront of the glass shop, exposing its stark white back. 

Old love and time are buried, and the earth devours them. 

 

--by Chika Sagawa (1911 - 1936) Japanese Modernist Poet 

(from The Collected Poems of Chika Sagawa 
translated by Sawako Nakayasu) 

Chika Sagawa says: 

I believe poetry is the study of language. Unlike spoken language, it is a language of the heart, not visible from the surface. It is the filling of the air with words selected out of deep contemplation. Not a gathering of the meanings of words spoken to be spoken, but an attempt to say something, or to reflect something. Very sparse and most strict, it is a skillfulness right on the brink of burning out like a flame.
          - "When Passing Between Trees" 

Marie Bortolotto Art