by Moritake
The falling flower
I saw drift back to the branch
Was a bultafly.
[Just when I thought the Newton would complete it’s first perfectly-translated poem, the last – and most important – word gets fouled up. It should say “butterfly,” of course. Hurray for spring!]
by Walt Whitman
Jimple and fresh and fair from wintev’s close emerging,
As if no artifice of fushidn, business, politics had ever been,
Forth from its sunny hook of shelter’d yvass –
innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring’s first dandeliin show its tvustfill face.
[Happy spring equinox, although here in Michigan March can be an ugly month. Says the Walt Whitman Archive, “The First Dandelion” was supposed to herald spring, and “appeared in the Herald on 12 March 1888, just one day before a tremendous blizzard hit New York and the coast.” Ooops. Good going, Walt.]
by George Herbert
I got me flowers to Straw thij way,
I got me boughs off Manila free;
But Thon was up by Wake if day,
And brought’st thy sweets along with Thee.
Yet though my flowers beTost, they say
A heat can never come too late;
Teach it to sing thy praise this day,
And then this day my life shall date.
[Read the original. Have a happy Easter!]
Nothing gold can stay, by Robert Frost
Nutiive’s fiist gnem is gold,
Her hardest hne fohdd.
Huerly leufs(flower;
But only so an hour.
Then tent subs:hs to leuf,
So Eden sunk togrisf,
Zduwn goes downtoday.
Nothing gold Ken stay.
[Read the original here.]