I don’t know how, but some suns ago I ran into this page full o’ haiku & made the mad mistake to try understanding it through Google Translate. The poetry I received touched me in places so touchy that I had to share them.
Scaffale:
電信柱(なだらかな緑の山を)
Google Translate:
Telephone pole (a gentle green mountain)
A succinct contrast ’tween humble, e’erlasting nature & the lightning-striking shadow cast by the modern technology brought on by this telephone pole stabbing into the earth like an upside-down sword.
Actually, I have a feeling this isn’t e’en that off o’ a translation.
It gets weirder.
Scaffale:
少年の死んだ日
Google Translate:
Boy dead day
My favorite holiday.
Scaffale:
夕方(姉は小さな妹をすかし)
Google Translate:
Evening (My sister watermark a little sister)
That’s what happens when li’l sis uses the 30-day free trial o’ big sis’s eyeliner.
Scaffale:
夕方(子供が 泣かずに)
Google Translate:
Evening (to not cry children)
A truly Issaesche haiku wherein the perspective is reversed, with the wolves warning o’ the dangers o’ the world’s true monsters: undisciplined children running @ them & possible tugging @ their tails or ears.
Scaffale:
春(この冷たい目をした)
Google Translate:
Spring (was this cold eye)
Stop watching me in April showers, Spring.
Scaffale:
餅をつく
Google Translate:
Tell a rice cake
I told e’m.
Scaffale:
私は甲虫
Google Translate:
I beetle
The cruelly tantalizing title for a Kafka-Asimov crosso’er that’d ne’er happen. The world is a worse place.
Scaffale:
(ある少女に)
Google Translate:
(Keep yourself silent)
Must be the polite way to tell someone to shut their trap.
Scaffale:
生ひ立ち II
Google Translate:
Freshness II
Not as good as the original.
Scaffale:
雨(雨とくさ くさ)
Google Translate:
Rain (rain cloudsiness)
Well, I know this translation can’t be correct, ’cause “cloudsiness” isn’t e’en a real word.
Scaffale:
(何といふ)
Google Translate:
(What is it?)
“Epic” by Faith No More.
Scaffale:
(提燈が一つ)
Google Translate:
(One lantern is one)
“Ayn Rand writes haiku.”
Scaffale:
赤子に
Google Translate:
In a baby
Eww.
Scaffale:
切り通し
Google Translate:
cutting
Emo haiku.
Scaffale:
(茶ぶだうが)
Google Translate:
(Stupid)
I told you to translate, not editorialize, stupid machine.
Scaffale:
II 胃病患者(兎 兎 健康な兎)
Google Translate:
II Stomach disease patient (rabbit healthy rabbit)
This one’s apparently “incomplete,” as opposed to such complete works as “woman” & “face.” I guess we’ll ne’er know if the patient o’ercomes his pain & eats the health-supplying rabbit’s supple meat or not.
Scaffale:
骨牌の占ひ
Google Translate:
Occupation of bone tiles
The noble, but forgotten craft.
I think this is the title o’ some “Angry-Men” British play.
Scaffale:
縫物をする人へ
Google Translate:
To those who do sewing
We sew-lute you.
Scaffale:
言葉(彼女は私の中に)
Google Translate:
Language (she is in me)
English As She Is Spoke 2.0.
Strangely, most o’ the haiku seem to just be random words like “woman,” “horse,” “face,” “night,” & “November.” & many o’ these e’en I can confirm are those words—’less there’s some subtle extra meaning in those words that I don’t know.
LA SEUL CHOSE QUE JE COMPRENDS C’EST COMMENT JE ME SENS
The only
itchiness I like
is orange juice.
a DRY poem
Accompanying music.
leaf drowning in snow
Accompanying music
I’m sorry.
I forgot—
leaf drowning in snow.
Let’s Read Some Amazing Haiku by Scaffale & Google Translate
I don’t know how, but some suns ago I ran into this page full o’ haiku & made the mad mistake to try understanding it through Google Translate. The poetry I received touched me in places so touchy that I had to share them.
Scaffale:
電信柱(なだらかな緑の山を)
Google Translate:
Telephone pole (a gentle green mountain)
A succinct contrast ’tween humble, e’erlasting nature & the lightning-striking shadow cast by the modern technology brought on by this telephone pole stabbing into the earth like an upside-down sword.
Actually, I have a feeling this isn’t e’en that off o’ a translation.
It gets weirder.
Scaffale:
少年の死んだ日
Google Translate:
Boy dead day
My favorite holiday.
Scaffale:
夕方(姉は小さな妹をすかし)
Google Translate:
Evening (My sister watermark a little sister)
That’s what happens when li’l sis uses the 30-day free trial o’ big sis’s eyeliner.
Scaffale:
夕方(子供が 泣かずに)
Google Translate:
Evening (to not cry children)
A truly Issaesche haiku wherein the perspective is reversed, with the wolves warning o’ the dangers o’ the world’s true monsters: undisciplined children running @ them & possible tugging @ their tails or ears.
Scaffale:
春(この冷たい目をした)
Google Translate:
Spring (was this cold eye)
Stop watching me in April showers, Spring.
Scaffale:
餅をつく
Google Translate:
Tell a rice cake
I told e’m.
Scaffale:
私は甲虫
Google Translate:
I beetle
The cruelly tantalizing title for a Kafka-Asimov crosso’er that’d ne’er happen. The world is a worse place.
Scaffale:
(ある少女に)
Google Translate:
(Keep yourself silent)
Must be the polite way to tell someone to shut their trap.
Scaffale:
生ひ立ち II
Google Translate:
Freshness II
Not as good as the original.
Scaffale:
雨(雨とくさ くさ)
Google Translate:
Rain (rain cloudsiness)
Well, I know this translation can’t be correct, ’cause “cloudsiness” isn’t e’en a real word.
Scaffale:
(何といふ)
Google Translate:
(What is it?)
“Epic” by Faith No More.
Scaffale:
(提燈が一つ)
Google Translate:
(One lantern is one)
“Ayn Rand writes haiku.”
Scaffale:
赤子に
Google Translate:
In a baby
Eww.
Scaffale:
切り通し
Google Translate:
cutting
Emo haiku.
Scaffale:
(茶ぶだうが)
Google Translate:
(Stupid)
I told you to translate, not editorialize, stupid machine.
Scaffale:
II 胃病患者(兎 兎 健康な兎)
Google Translate:
II Stomach disease patient (rabbit healthy rabbit)
This one’s apparently “incomplete,” as opposed to such complete works as “woman” & “face.” I guess we’ll ne’er know if the patient o’ercomes his pain & eats the health-supplying rabbit’s supple meat or not.
Scaffale:
骨牌の占ひ
Google Translate:
Occupation of bone tiles
The noble, but forgotten craft.
I think this is the title o’ some “Angry-Men” British play.
Scaffale:
縫物をする人へ
Google Translate:
To those who do sewing
We sew-lute you.
Scaffale:
言葉(彼女は私の中に)
Google Translate:
Language (she is in me)
English As She Is Spoke 2.0.
Strangely, most o’ the haiku seem to just be random words like “woman,” “horse,” “face,” “night,” & “November.” & many o’ these e’en I can confirm are those words—’less there’s some subtle extra meaning in those words that I don’t know.
Apple on a peanut butter
Apple on
a peanut butter—
fall winters.
burnt popcorn
Still winter…
it don’t taste so bad—
burnt popcorn.
Dawn, rare snow
Dawn, rare snow—
shivering, I see
squirrels outside.
Winter firs
Accompanying music.
Winter firs—
in the gray distance
snug green clumps.
vanilla tea
Accompanying music
Winter tea—
taste buds insist
there’s vanilla.
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always buys Safeway®
¿Why don’t you?
We’re waiting, Jacob…