Appearing in the latest edition of the journal Asymptote are my English translations of two Nahuatl poems from the Aztec codex Songs of Mexico (Cantares mexicanos). You can read them, peruse the original Nahuatl text, and listen to me read one of them in that indigenous language here.
The journal Metamorphoses published “A Cradlesong,” my translation of “Cōzolcuīcatl” (the 57th selection in the Aztec codex Songs of Mexico) in its spring 2015 edition. In the long sequence, a young Mexica girl envisions the fallen young king of Tenochtitlan, Ahuizotl, as a baby, youth and man, her musings running from motherly affection…
I was pleased to learn that my translations of songs V and VI of the Aztec codex Cantares Mexicanos will be published in an upcoming number of the journal Asymptote.
Karai Senryū was born in 1718 in Edo. A town official and frequent judge of poetry contests, he was responsible for popularizing a lighter, more whimsical variation of haiku that now bears his name (senryū). Before his passing at the age of 73, he composed the following jisei or death…
The literary magazine Axolotl will be publishing my translations of four Nahuatl poems in their upcoming issue.
Saiba was a Zen Buddhist monk who wrote this jisei or death haiku as he sensed his end approach in the fall of 1858. He finally died on the night of the harvest moon. So I’ll just scoot my pillow closer to the full autumn moon. —Translated by David Bowles,…
Nozawa Bonchō was born in the city of Kanazawa in Japan’s Ishikawa Prefecture. Though he worked most of his life as a doctor in Kyoto, Bonchō never made much money. He became one of Matsuo Bashō’s foremost disciples, which saved him when he was convicted of smuggling: due to his…
On May 20, 1689, a few weeks before the beginning of the three-month time of seclusion Buddhist monks were required to observe each summer, the Japanese poet Bashō climbed into the mountains to visit Urami Falls. Passing behind the cascade, he tarried a while in a cave, looking out at the world…
Japanese poet Bashō composed the following haiku in 1666, apparently after visiting the home of a couple whose young child had died. The sight of their despair reminded him of the nō play Take no Yuki (“Snow on Bamboo”) by the playwright Zeami Motokiyo, in which a young boy dies…
Japanese poet Bashō composed the following haiku in the fall of 1666. An autumn wind blows through the doorway’s yawning maw— cold and cutting voice. —Translated by David Bowles, March 2015
