Terebess Asia Online (TAO)


Ertore José Palmero (1923-)



From the hill top,
view the sea, the hamlet
and the new moon.

Obscure prairie.
Like bright eyes of the night
fireflies are spying on us.

Cold weather.
My eyeglasses are misty
by my breathing.

Broken weathercock
on the top of empty barn.
The wind forget it.

Upon the hillside,
there is a slow train climbing
like an ancient worm.

After summer rain
small pools in the park reflect
the sky again blue.

Winter begins.
An empty vase
on the corner shelf.

Noon over the lake.
A shining fish jumps outside.
Brief rainbow of scales.

Over the sea
red moon appears behind
the evening haze.

Frozen pond.
Stars alight on it
to take a rest.


(From "Haiku" chapbook)

Like flags of peace,
autumn wind agitates
white diapers.

A young girl whimpers:
Her snowman has been stolen
by the sun.

Day after day,
the same indifference
commutes on train.

When a caterpillar
sees butterflies flying,
it stays enraptured!

Goblins of the dawn,
over the snowy Fuji,
spreading petals.

Only silence!
Only computers,
sand and wind!

Foggy night on the wharf.
Wave murmurs and light halos
into darkness.

Clouds like white gauzes:
the moon is a bride
covered with laces.

In my hands
snowflakes disappear quickly.
Brief petals!

Flowers and moon talk.
I am an intruder
in my own garden!

Old friends: river
and reeds travel over the time,
always together.

Mogami river
is carrying shed petals.
Fragile messages!

At dawn,
an immense peony
in the east.

Paths of graveyard.
Remembrances walk with me.
Autumn evening.

Demolished house.
In a garden corner,

Roof after roof
line up the coast
in Iwaseura.

The koto sounds soft,
and the evening is covered
with golden leaves.

Tears? Pearls?
Petals and dew.
Magic dawn!

Intrigued, hummingbird
and bitch observe each other

Evening on the shore.
Waves arrive and depart.
Albatross gliding far.

Winter storm coming
over the bay, effacing
the shape of islets.

Sky and foliage.
My canoe reposes.
A spider weaves.


(From "Beneath the Stars" chapbook)

Lukewarm midnight.
The moon is silvering
the rusty ship.

Undisturbed but watchful,
the lizard resembles
goldsmith's masterpiece.

A afraid fledgling
trying its first flight.
The breeze helps it.

In the spring morning,
a tenuous fading light.
White plums in blossom.

Many fine cranes
are drawing on the smooth snow
their graceful dances.

The wind strips off
white butterflies,
from my frail rose.

Summer siesta.
Only a solitary
cicada singing.

On the lotus leaf,
a drop of dew is shining
a ray from far sun.

Sound of waterfall
in the night. I don't see it,
but feel its freshness.

The ancient park
and the autumn. The afternoon
and our farewell.

Erect trunks
are prolonged by the mirror
of the quiet water.

When the full moon
lights bottoms of wells,
there are two moons.

Under an old apple tree,
grandfather is hearing
the noiselessness.

Soft autumnal breeze.
In the long way, two shadows
are separating.

Evening on the pond
surrounded by snow. The night
has special mirror.

The sun dry the mud,
with the footprints
of restless sparrows.

Coming into my room
a sunlight ray. It ignores
my disillusion.

Early snowy dawn.
The sleep of my small orchard
today is longer.

New Year holiday.
For children snow is not cold:
it is rejoicing.

Moisture has polished
leaves of my orchard trees
during the spring dawn.

The newborn colt
stands on its fragile legs.
Its mother licks it.

Moving queue of ants
cuts across my garden grass
sinuous pathway.

On the horizon
white clouds resemble cotton
castles and mountains.

The curious
sunflower folds its neck
to observe us.

Under the street lamps
some toads ambush insects
with fishermen's petience.

The moss,
old velvet,
shelters the damp rock.



Biographical Information About Ertore José Palmero

He was born on 1923 in Rufino, a small city in the middle of Argentina. He liked to write western poems and different kinds of proses from his adolescence, and on 1968 he knew Japan, from August to November, using a technical scholarship.

In that time he did not know about Japanese poems, but when he returned to Buenos Aires, he could read "Three Masters of the Haiku - Basho, Buson and Issa", a book in Spanish by the Argentinean Professor Osvaldo Svanascini, that introduced him in the wonderful haiku world.

From then he is writing haiku and tanka poems, first only in Spanish but afterwards also in English. They have been published in Spanish in daily newspapers and magazines of Argentina and Mexico, and in English, of Japan, USA, Canada, Ireland, England, The Netherlands, Germany, Croatia, Rumania, Australia and New Zealand.

Several local and international honorable mentions have been bestowed upon him; he also took part in various anthologies, and he further published three chapbooks: "Haiku and Tanka" in Spanish,

Pequeno arco-iris
cerca de la cascada.
?Cuándo bajó?

!Mis noches blancas!
!Veinte anos! Y el sendero
entre los pinos.

!Esos gorriones
alegres, entre cubos
grises de hollín!

"Haiku" in English, "Beneath the Stars" in English.

On September 1997, in Buenos Aires, a chamber music recital was presented, with the participation of baritone, flute and piano. In the course of it, the Argentinean composer Mrs. Maria Luisa De Caro presented, for the first time sung haiku, written in Spanish by him.

He feels that haiku is a crystalline instant of nature perception in all its aspects and thinks it is an excellent way to improve global understanding and friendship.