I saw the Honey Moon a.k.a. Strawberry Moon, red above the neighbourhood trees.
I visited a beekeeper just before the Honey Moon. He had hives in his backyard. My friend Joyce donned the bee suit, and said it took effort not to swat the bees away, even though she knew she was well protected.
Here is the sentence fed into German google translate and back to English:
Shortly before our honeymoon, I visited a beekeeper. He had hives in his garden. My friend Joyce slipped into the beekeeping suit and said it took a lot of effort not to scare the bees away, even though she knew she was well protected.
Why did I just do that? Well, that week I had also been to the Griffin Poetry prize, and three of the poets on the shortlist were there with their translators. Having enjoyed the readings I now have more poetry on my reading list. Book club this month was Eastbound, written in French and translated by an English poet. Nuances are so important and so often lost; so much depends not only on the original choice of words but the translator's talents.
Speaking of which, this month's AI haiku: a haiku about the Honey Moon a.k.a. Strawberry Moon, red above the neighbourhood trees.
Red moon climbs the sky,
Strawberry hues on treetops,
Honeyed night descends.
This month's AI poem: a poem about the Honey Moon a.k.a. Strawberry Moon, red above the neighbourhood trees.
The Strawberry Moon, a fiery blush, ascends,
Above the trees, its amber light extends.
A honeyed hue, a summer's gentle grace,
A crimson stain upon the evening's face.
The neighbourhood sleeps, beneath its watchful gaze,
In this red moonlit, dreamy, summer haze.
The trees stand still, their leafy branches bare,
Reflecting back the moon's warm, gentle glare.
A sweet and hazy light, a tranquil scene,
Where shadows dance, and twilight dreams convene.
The Strawberry Moon, a fleeting, vibrant art,
A painted sky, that captures every heart.
