New Poems on the Underground February 2026

The Spring Poems on the Underground go live on London Underground and Overground trains for 4 weeks from 9th February with poems by Kobayashi Issa, Rachael Boast, Mircea Dinescu, Jonathan Davidson, Blake Morrison and Jane Hirshfield

February’s poems feature a mix of international poets and contemporary British writers, many of which deal with the moments of profundity that can be found as we move about the mundane moments of our day-to-day lives. Kobayashi Issa’s haiku, featuring calligraphy by Yukki Yaura, celebrates the coming of spring and captures the sudden awakening of a frozen world.

The Poems are:

The snow is melting by Kobayashi Issa translated by Robert Hass Calligraphy by Yukki Yaura Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa, tr. Robert Hass (Bloodaxe Books, 2013)

Syzygy by Rachael Boast Reprinted by permission of Pan Macmillan from Sidereal (Picador 2011) 

Myopic Painter by Mircea Dinescu translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Barbarians’ Return(2018)

A Short Piece of Choral Music by Jonathan Davidson Reprinted by permission of The Poetry Business from Early Train (Smith/Doorstop 2011)

Narcissus by Blake Morrison  Reprinted by permission of Chatto & Windus from Shingle Street (2015)

Da Capo by Jane Hirshfield Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Asking: New & Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2024)

The snow is melting by Kobayashi Issa translated by Robert Hass Calligraphy by Yukki Yaura

The snow is melting and the village is flooded with children. Kobayashi Issa translated by Robert Hass Calligraphy by Yukki Yaura Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa, tr. Robert Hass (Bloodaxe Books, 2013)

Syzygy by Rachael Boast

Syzygy A desire for a house with a glass roof made me get up and walk the streets at four in the morning. The full moon was looking as if she’d passed a loaded remark at some conference that was drawing to a close. How strange for the world to have turned and be facing the other way again. Why do we sleep through these great rotations? The night sky sometimes likes a good conversation and gives me plenty of time to speak before thinking. Rachael Boast Reprinted by permission of Pan Macmillan from Sidereal (Picador 2011)

Myopic Painter by Mircea Dinescu translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu

Myopic painter Many a madman has imagined himself a general and some have even become one, the myopic decorator of Easter eggs may one day paint a church and it’s not impossible that a comet will later crash into its steeple and cry out, ‘Christ is risen’ just as you who swear you love me may once upon a time even come to love me. Mircea Dinescu translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Barbarians’ Return (2018)

A Short Piece of Choral Music by Jonathan Davidson

A Short Piece of Choral Music It’s an evening in late March and in the kitchen I’m listening to a short piece of choral music, when my son comes in to fetch himself a bowl of breakfast cereal which, he tells me, helps with his revision. And another thing, he goes on, I shouldn’t worry about him because he’s going to be fine: exams, work, life, everything, is going to be fine. That’s a relief, I say to myself, thanks, now I can listen to this music, which turns out to be just some fancy noise, nothing compared with a boy’s cheerfulness. Jonathan Davidson Reprinted by permission of The Poetry Business from Early Train (Smith/Doorstop 2011)

Narcissus by Blake Morrison

Narcissus Thinking the boiler had packed up from lack of oil I climbed the rusty tank to peer down the hatch and there I was, bright-faced and young again, in the viscous black pool at the bottom. Blake Morrison Reprinted by permission of Chatto & Windus from Shingle Street (2015)

Da Capo by Jane Hirshfield

Da Capo Take the used-up heart like a pebble and throw it far out. Soon there is nothing left. Soon the last ripple exhausts itself in the weeds. Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery. Glaze them in oil before adding the lentils, water, and herbs. Then the roasted chestnuts, a little pepper, the salt. Finish with goat cheese and parsley. Eat. You may do this, I tell you, it is permitted. Begin again the story of your life. Jane Hirshfield Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Asking: New & Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2024)