Tag: Poetry

Summer travel

I. The song at the end of the village

Was in bloom, a Bird’s-foot trefoil, and
I picked by fingers, it told me through the light–
The right is the path from the north to Echigo
The left is the Nakasendo at Kiso
On the fine evening after the rain, we’ll stay looking absent-mindedly at the sky
And, I’d walk straight across the evening, my dingy home village
By the tussock grass of Batohcannon, we stood wordless by the first time of our lives

II. For the goat

The little bridge, said the road entered the village this way
In the shade of a tree on the coastal podocarps, a very old black house….. to this garden
An old goat was put by the chain, as the nice joy of a pitiful boy
To everyone, the goat answered with a voice that trembled–
Always travellers, would pass and see to thee in a moment

III. Bucolic

The mill alone in the village
In summer, the roof smoked
It sang merry songs all day long and never tired of singing
What was the mill doing
To the stream, to the sun, it harmonised to sing your slowed steps
What was the mill spinning at

IV. Rest – A personal letter to I.T.

Formerly, when I came across the dream was beautiful, there was not the thing more beautiful than the dream in this world. But, today, if things that more beautiful than the dream surrounds me, that’s how happy I am. On the Shinano plateau, the flowers of common buckwheat bloom in the clear air, and the grasses of the pampas float, the stripes of the mountain lines were counted, there is the existence of beautiful clouds incredible to the sky very blue. I opened my ear towards the subtle tone of wind, but it whispers the correct words in this world. Finally, I do not want to express who my heart means by my words. How, I say, and I demand. It is reasonable, that I think such and such with zeal. T, to be like that is pleasant. The sky very high unfathomable. I am small so, also I am great so.

V. Towards the cemetery

To the thin path in the thick fog, the very sonorous voice invited me, the bottom of the wood I arrived first time.
To the hillside of the birch trees– ah, my fantasy! (The branches, sang the song of the sky which flew by the wind)

VI. Death of summer

Summer passed hastily away
For yet another journey

We counted the days that remained unshadowed
Watching the clouds and the steam weighing on the volcano
We stayed a cold room a little, most of the time
Chatting about trivial flowers and the gossip of the townsfolk

On a drizzly day I’d walk the person to the car park
At the entrance to the village, the small leaves of the pine trees were falling in the cold wind, non-stop
…… An inn had free rooms, since that night, I wrote the letters always, only on the weak lamp

VII. The end of the journey

Last night, the moon that sees the moonrise
Became the moon at noon, floated the morning sky
Bright ultramarine blue ran across the sky
It was said to disperse and change to white clouds, also this moon
Many times I looked back, many times I looked back
The traveller, raising his eyes to the sky, had an inexhaustible resentment to the people left behind
And felt the sad lie without limit

Words from the rain

I’m cold little
Because I was only going through everything
In a drizzle
My palms, my forehead, stayed wet
Before I knew it I was going dark
I lean on here like this
And wait for the lamp to light

Outside the weak rain without sound continues to rain
On a manless fish tank, on a roof
On the umbrellas of men
It wanders forever
Before long it will turn into a smoky fog……

I don’t know and I don’t hope
She says something about a day
About the silence and the warm morning
The subtle murmur of the rain, of a kind
And it changes variously
Listening to it
I unknowingly fell asleep as always

Entering summer

Like a palm, it was beautiful calm weather. I thought some where I’d seen Sunday like this.

In the night, the fog descended out of the window. We were gathering. Around the candle. We even knitted words sometimes, around the chatter remained a little.

On our hands, the morning bouquet didn’t stay. …..Il was like the colour of the country away from my mother and family.

Insects sang. The crickets continued to sing, which is the monkey of late summer. A person was listening but he got bored and went out somewhere.

I was thinking about tomorrow. About the thing I can’t listen to or talk about. ……The window was open. The moonrise shone clearly through the window, through the fog ran soundlessly.

Travel diary: The day, to Tsutomu Ikuta

This city, a front of a library — I was listening, the voice of a young Turkish woman. I received a song book with a beautiful red cover. Like children singing.

And I tilted my umbrella a few times, and I saw the sky. The sky was completely grey, but it’s unfathomably high. The day of quiet rain.

People whispered to the young traveller. What were you looking at?
Yes. I was looking at a young Turkish woman, later at a park, at the end of the little dark city.
— One of these days I’ll sell Novalis and Rilke. The day ended as such, the girl of the blazing sky….. My reverie was like a hard and sour fruit.

I prepare the candles did not burn entirely to the girl. For I do not forget memoirs of the trip. — The end of the summer, to the city has ancient castle, I received, by the girl, this book of song, I continued to travel.

The noon of a lonely day

Hiding from me a tuft of wet grass
I repeated
Various, narrow positions
How miserably pleasant they were

The conviction that I was seen by none
Earlier, an invitation to confession and…
This time, midday
Seemed to feel
The sun made the coquette gently
Tumult ceased while I ignored
Only the song of the birds, singing in the distance

Ah, innocent
A moment was knotted, that will be gone
To the rightness of this desire

Requiem

At the tiled window, she reflected
Passed, an inclined shadow of a person
Piled up, piled up and tangled, erased
erased……

This moment, this moment
Like a shadow, she would go on like that
Always, always
She wrote characters that laughed at her
When she passed away, she’d smile a little…
But this voice, me
By another, I was heard only

On a table, the shadow of a flower fell, the shadow of a dish
If I touched them with my fingers
My memories would fade one by one, a faint sound would erase

Basket of the Sky

A country girl, showed to train
And gave lessons to the neighbouring town
With a big basket in her hand
–Le retour….. The basket
Fruit, bread and flowers, was full
The girl was buried in perfume
She was fast asleep

Always, even completely
Just now when the sun was setting
At home, the basket was empty
I didn’t know why
The country girl, from the oven
Was burning with fire
This time for herself alone
She sang the song of the basket
Many birds, pearls and flowers

Paper cut-outs

The sun was setting, so the sky was undressing
And it said “Soon it will be night” to the cuckoo clock

Little stars fell from the lamp
Each one lit up the rooms of the town

Like “My room, good night!
One by one the children disappeared

The night is this story
This sad makes me happy

To summer

He waited here and like this, for a while
My boy, my secret……
Then, a person I do not know
I forget, a distant departure, from someone

He waved a handkerchief
He would look out of a window
He, waved
Finally he was going somewhere…
(Yes, I, prepared a hat
And a T-shirt whiter than paper
So I would have looked)

I waved my hand at the dock for a while
My yesterday, my boy…… After that
This man alone was not there, many departures passed by

List of Poetry Translations
(English, Français, Deutsch, Español, Italiano)

Still Life

At the end of a village was a stronghold
Broad leaves swayed

The sky was cloudy, and the path was dry
When I turned, the forest was hidden by the forest
The branches were like smoke

The clouds flowed, and they would break
The wind moved bursting to a tree far away
I alone, between the forest
Saw a person drawing water from a stone well
Roosters crowed from the village, for a moment, like a dream

Song of dead trees and wind

I would tell a lie and pretend
To you who forgave me everything
I began in silence
Just like a child getting angry

What embarrassing branches
I had distractions and they betrayed
I threw out the word of hate
And whispered to the wind

It was a prayer, to whom incited
And once again quietly
I watched a shadow reflected in the water
So I wouldn’t wander forever

*

I ran like this
How sad you are
You stayed still, like you weren’t listening
You were always just swinging

— — — — —

I was going to the next tree
It looked like you
I’d throw my body away, and you’d burst into song
There’s no door, and look
Silently, a darkness began to remain

Travel clothing

How much too blinding, the sun
Burst from the corners of the room, Burst
Went home, my heart……

Curiously, I leaned on a chair
Caressing the flaws of a desk
The wind blew in the office

–It’s yourself, a memory
I reread my notebook, still forgetting again

–To me, who was waiting for the train to leave this village
The silhouette of the mountain of the plain far away, the clouds would put lines……

Song that the wind sang

Part 1

On the first cloudy day I was like a little fire
Worrying about one thing, Whispering
Then I’d go outside

The leaves would close their eyes and avoid me
Between my fingers they’d slip and fall and disappear, the leaves…
Since then, I didn’t know myself
When I laughed, my body remained twisted
I cried out in a hurried, sad voice

Part 2

All people are little animals
Looking worried, they lit honest candles in the windows and streets
Don’t blow the wind, they prayed, I came and listened, lowering my head

But suddenly I shouted and gave up
I’d get angry, dirty, and I’d be all alone, I’d run
I ran with excess, I didn’t hate

Part 3

On the wood that matched his voice
I sang only by the loud voice
And a dead tree was heeling

I sang of summer and autumn
The dead tree answered, I sang again……
The tuning of an oak violin went out of order

After a while the long silence entered deep into me
I remembered in ecstasy
Sunset in the music, a day gone by
I began to walk silently being muted

Part 4

A smoke was about to pass, on the white
The shape was already disappearing
The surface of the fields made no noise
I watched the little child in a window
And god overflowed

Part 5

I watched, inside a house
The night of father, mother and child, It shone as within the flower and was warmed by the little lamp
It seemed a silent conversation, my ears listened only to my voice
It’s the smiling face, and the sleeping face

This time to me, I’m sad right away
I’d pass by knocking on the window of their door

Part 6

I pressed myself against the lamp, but I can’t see the lamp

Night was coming on, I’d make a moving heart come and scream, My wounds continued to anger her
I held out my hands to the beautiful white women, a thin white woman shouted a word and collapsed.

Part 7

The song a wild goose homeless and was dizzy sang
She had thrown herself into a pond, and was breaking her beak by the ice
When spring comes I’ll do how
A wild goose homeless and was dizzy cried to the bay that would melt into the early morning

Part 8

Moonlight was etched on snow, wordless
Left a song of parting
In cloud shadow quickly left

Sunrise, to me, closed melodies come back to mind
For I did not listen
In the forest, dead trees
Pass the green, pass the green

Part 9

I kept shouting, and when I was tired
The pale sun etched invisible characters on my eyelids
A dust entangled, a shadow enjoyed

I’d look at it but I’d run like hell…

Chanson qui le vent chantait (II)

Part 1

One day, herbs were just talking
One day, the sky only made noise
We went from sunny spot to shade
Ah, flowers, colours, smell and glow

Very old, the old days
Children were, in flowers
There is happiness all, songs all
As children, on journeys far away

Inside the wood trembled
Inside the wood he forgot
He smiled tenderly, tenderly

Trembling, hesitating
All day long, he passed by the branches only
All day long, he erased the sky only

Part 2

The forest was suddenly covered, like the unknown dream
The water and the branches were covered, I began to laugh only
At the distant tuft of grass–

Later a little light fled, and all the leaves trembled
The forest waited for the wind, I closed my eyes in silence
So I couldn’t see the thin cottony clouds
A great light overflowed in the sky, I began to laugh more and more

Part 3

If it moved forever, I was sad

The song was fading

The sound was repetition of the same words
He fled into the night with faltering steps
–But I waited for the night

I ran a little

And the leaves would hold, then they would laugh indefinitely

To the wind

Part 1

Like the murmur of a stream, because it was windy
Such fun, murmured
That sparkle of a little shadow on the surface
Everything, the wind alone……

The murmur transported and pushed things
Waste straw, grass foliage, antique shoes
For the wind pushed the course
The water wouldn’t stop, and, the wind wouldn’t stop

The water would suddenly twist, the wind would part for a while
But on the creek forever, the wind
With the current, repeated a chat

One long, long day, from dawn to dawn, between dream and morning
The wind whispered softly, with the water, the water wing and the wind eyelid
He doesn’t want to scream yet, he’ll have run

Part II

Where was the wind, it was far, it was not
You were in the wind, I was listening to it
…… He lowered his head, a kind heart, a button
Me, you were crying the other day, there were lines on your cheek

The wind blew, it whispered, it sang, people listened
A heart soloist would reach out, the song, its melody was sad, it’s fun
It’s joyous, we had passed, the wind would have sung again
To the leaves, to me, to the petals, would make a day

I’m waiting, it’s probably, near, the crescent coast
All alone, I would have sung again some day, to my ears

Where was the wind, the wind was far away, but it wasn’t coming back, already
Me, one day, you smiled, there are good things
In the wind, you didn’t cry, you didn’t smile

Murdered, like a little animal

A heart, a song, were thirsty, I was reaching a woman
My heart, to the poor man, my song, to pleasure
It drew a sinister shadow with lust, I would seek and wander
I’d shout a hundred words, sing along I’d turn around

Like a beast, harshly as lightly, I’d walk only
Sleep never set, I in the distance
Conceived the feeling of woe, I’d seek and follow
Singing heavily, shouting repeatedly

The cloud, the path, were dry, I appeared a woman……
She’ll be here, she’ll be here, one day
I stood by a dark window, I, appeared a woman

No one answered, would smile, I walked only
At the place of the last house, me on far, the sun never set
I was only walking, I was walking far away

The holiday of cloud

When the sheep cloud passed by
Every time clouds of steam fell
The sky, you scattered
Lines of white cotton and white

The cloud of sail and the cloud of organ, the cloud of chair
The cloud of hump floated fragmenting
Clouds in the sky….. The sky of clouds, the blue sky
All the day there was the troop of the waves white and white
Without support, with the red of pink
A passing cloud faded abruptly, at twilight
The countries beyond the sky……

At the moment the rainbow of steam illuminated him
A pure white pigeon became an umbrella
Clouds from afar, all day long

Separation sadness

In the hectic parting day

The whistles, sad salutes like birds sang its hails
The tain that embarked you, would descend the pass

Of autumn, in the shadow of a pavement that had infiltrated
I stood there forever
And waved my hat forever…

To the person left
To the child

List of Poetry Translations
(English, Français, Deutsch, Español, Italiano)