Haiku harusamu 寒き春（さむきはる） / Haiku for This Cold Spring…Kyoshi & Issa
Posted: March 20, 2014 Filed under: English, Issa, Japanese, Kyoshi | Tags: Spring Haiku Comments Off on Haiku harusamu 寒き春（さむきはる） / Haiku for This Cold Spring…Kyoshi & Issa
Takahama Kyoshi (1874-1959)
Translations by Katsuya Hiromoto
.
春風や闘志いだきて丘に立つ
harukaze ya / tohshi idaki te / oka ni tatsu
.
Spring wind:
Full of fight
I stand on the hill
.
眼つむれば若き我あり春の宵
Me tsumureba / wakaki ware ari / haru no yoi
.
Shutting my eyes
I find a young me found
In the spring evening
.
この庭の遅日の石のいつまでも
Kono niwa no / chijitsu no ishi no / itsumademo
.
The rocks in this garden
Remain forever
In the lengthening days of spring
.
何事も知らずと答へ老の春
Nanigoto mo / shirazu to kotae / oi no haru
.
”I know nothing”
Is my answer:
Spring in my old age
.
これよりは恋や事業や水温む
kore-yori wa / koi ya jigyoh ya / mizu nurumu
.
From this time on
Love, enterprise, and such:
Water has warmed up
. . .
The following haiku by Kyoshi were translated by Aya Nagayama and James W. Henry:
.
時ものを解決するや春を待つ
Toki mono o kaiketsu suru ya haru o matsu
.
May time solve
Worries and difficulties –
Awaiting the spring
(1914)
.
金の輪の春の眠りにはひりけり
Kin no wa no haru no nemuri ni hairikeri
.
I have entered
The golden circle of
Spring slumber
(1942)
.
闘志尚存して春の風を見る
Tohshi nao sonshite haru no kaze o miru
.
Steadfast in my soul
My fighting spirit remains
And I see the spring breeze
(1950)
.
独り句の推敲をして遅き日を
Hitori ku no suikou o shite osoki hi o
.
In your solitude
Honing and perfecting your haiku –
On a slow spring day
(1959)
. . .
Plus: two by Issa – to have with your cup of tea :-)
(Issa was the haiku pen-name of Kobayashi Nobuyuki Yataro. Issa means Cup of Tea.)
Issa / 一茶 (1763-1828)
.
まん六の春と成りけり門の雪
manroku no haru to nari keri kado no yuki
.
some “proper spring”
this is!
snow at the gate
(1822)
.
春立や愚の上に又愚にかへる
haru tatsu ya gu no ue ni mata gu ni kaeru
.
spring begins –
more foolishness
for this fool
(1823)
. . . . .
Haikus de Invierno: Bashô, Buson, Etsujin, Hashin, Issa, Jokun, Onitsura, Senkaku, Yaba y Yasô
Posted: January 1, 2014 Filed under: Japanese, Spanish | Tags: Haiku Comments Off on Haikus de Invierno: Bashô, Buson, Etsujin, Hashin, Issa, Jokun, Onitsura, Senkaku, Yaba y Yasô
Haikus de Invierno:
Los poetas japoneses en versiones del traductor chileno, Alberto Silva
. . .
Al gong le confieso:
quiera yo o no quiera,
soy un año más viejo
[Jokun]
年とらぬつもりなりしが鐘の鳴る 助葷
Toshi toranu tsumori narishi ga kane no naru
.
De cualquier modo,
¡de ti pende mi vida,
fin de año!
[Issa]
ともかくもあなた任せのとしの暮 一茶
Tomokaku mo anata makase no toshi no kure
.
Vuelvo a mi pueblo
para fin de año
(lazos de sangre rotos,
nostalgia, llanto)
[Bashô]
ふる里や臍の緒に泣年の暮 芭蕉
Furusato ya hozo no o ni naku toshi no kure
.
Se va otro año
(que mis padres no vean
que peino canas)
[Etsujin]
行く年や親に白髪をかくしけり 越人
Yuku toshi ya oya ni shiraga wo kakushi keri
.
Sin duda envidio
al hombre al que rezongan
Acaba el año
[Issa]
叱らるゝ人うらやまし年の暮 一茶
Shikararuru hito urayamashi toshi no kure
.
Pisando y pateando,
sin mirar lo que deja
se marcha el año
[Senkaku]
踏づ蹴つ跡も見ずして年ぞ行く 仙鶴
Funzu ketsu ato mo mizu shite toshi zo yuku
Tres hombres juntos
celebran fanfarrones
el año muerto
[Bashô]
年忘れ三人寄りて喧嘩かな 芭蕉
Toshiwasure san-nin yorite kenka kana
.
¡Ladra, perro! ¡Ven
a despedir el año
con los que celebran!
[Issa]
わんといへさあいへ犬もとし忘 一茶
Wan to ie sâ ie inu mo toshiwasure
.
Aunque lo mires
por su lado más bueno,
se ve aterido
[Issa]
ひいき目に見てさへ寒いそぶりかな 一茶
Hiikime ni mite sae samui soburi kana
.
Día de invierno:
hace calor al sol
¡si así puede decirse!
[Onitsura]
あたゝかに冬の日向の寒さ哉 鬼貫
Atataka ni fuyu no hinata no samusa kana
Dientes de una rata
mascando fierro
frío
sonido del invierno
[Buson]
鐵をはむ鼠の牙の音寒し 蕪村
Tetsu wo hamu nezumi no kiba no oto samushi
.
Ventisca de invierno
Y el gato que no para
de hacer guiños
[Yasô]
こがらしや肹しげき猫の面 八桑
Kogarashi ya matataki shigeki nekono tsura
.
Ventisca helada
en la cara de la gente,
hinchada
[Bashô]
こがらしや頬腫痛む人の顔 芭蕉
Kogarashi ya hôbare itamu hito no kao
.
Se van las voces,
pasada medianoche;
se queda el frío
[Yaba]
人声の夜半を過ぐる寒さ哉 野坡
Hito-goe no yahan wo suguru samusa kana
.
Un hoyo recto
de orinar en la nieve
junto a la puerta
[Issa]
真直な小便穴や門の雪 一茶
Massugu na shôben ana ya kado no yuki
.
Los años de la vida,
como ascuas de leña
se van quemando
[Issa]
炭の火や齢のへるもあの通り 一茶
Sumi no hi ya yowai no heru mo ano tôri
No hay cielo ni tierra
Sólo nieve
que cae eternamente
[Hashin]
天も地もなしに雪の降りしきり 芭臣
Ten mo chi mo nashi ni yuki no furishikiri
. . . . .
Fuyugomori / 冬篭り : Issa’s Haiku of Winter Seclusion
Posted: December 13, 2013 Filed under: English, Issa, Japanese | Tags: Haiku Comments Off on Fuyugomori / 冬篭り : Issa’s Haiku of Winter Seclusion
Toronto, Canada, December 2013…
The early arrival of not cold but unusually cold temperatures we associate with January – normally – may have people feeling sad – or feeling S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Well, poetry’s been there before; witness these Haiku composed two hundred years ago…
. . .
Kobayashi Issa / 小林 一茶 (Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest, 1763-1828)
.
no nashi wa tsumi mo mata nashi fuyugomori
no good deeds
but also no sins…
winter isolation.
(1819)
.
asana-asana yaki daiko kana fuyugomori
morning after morning –
damn roasted radishes –
winter seclusion!
(1794)
.
fuyugomori akumono-gui no tsunori keri
winter seclusion…
on a foul food eating
binge.
(1821)
“Foul food” may have referred to cicada pupae or “bee worms” but might also have meant beef – something prohibited by Issa’s Buddhism.
.
he kurabe ga mata hajimaru zo fuyugomori
the farting contest
begins again…
winter confinement.
(1816)
.
hito soshiru kai ga tatsunari fuyugomori
another party held
to badmouth other people –
winter confinement.
(1822)
.
sewazuki ya fushô-bushô ni fuyugomori
the busy-body reluctantly
begins…
his winter seclusion.
(1825)
.
neko no ana kara mono wo kau samusa kana
buying from the peddlar
through the cat’s door…
it’s cold!
(1822)
.
fuyugomoru mo ichi nichi futsuka kana
one more day
of winter confinement…
makes two.
(1824)
. . . . .
Gabi Greve writes:
Fuyugomori / 冬篭り means “winter seclusion/isolation/confinement” in Japanese.
In rural Japan, especially in the Northern areas along the coast of the Sea of Japan, the winter was long and brought enormous amounts of snow. There was nothing much to do but wait it out. Farmhouses were difficult to heat and the family huddled around the hearth – irori – in the kitchen. Great endurance was required during such winter seasons.
Fuyugomori also may refer to cold-season hibernation – the habit of bears – and the “fantasy” of numerous Canadians at this time of year!
.
. . . . .
Poemas japoneses – de guerra, del honor, de la ternura – traducidos por Nuna López
Posted: July 20, 2013 Filed under: Akiko Yosano, English, Japanese, Kaneko Misuzu, Sadako Kurihara, Spanish, ZP Translator: Nuna López | Tags: Poemas japoneses de guerra Comments Off on Poemas japoneses – de guerra, del honor, de la ternura – traducidos por Nuna López
ZP_Samurai writing a poem on a flowering cherry-tree trunk by Ogata Gekko, 1859-1920_ print courtesy of ogatagekkodotnet
.
Ouchi Yoshitaka (a “daimyo” or feudal lord / un “daimyo” o soberano feudal, 1507-1551)
.
Both the victor and the vanquished are
but drops of dew, but bolts of lightning –
thus should we view the world.
. . .
Tanto el vencedor como el vencido no son
Sino gotas de rocío, relámpagos –
así deberíamos ver el mundo.
. . .
Hojo Ujimasa (1538-1590)
Hojo was a “daimyo” and “samurai” who, after a shameful defeat, committed “seppuku” or ritual suicide by self-disembowelment. He composed a poem before he killed himself:
.
“Death Poem”
.
Autumn wind of evening,
blow away the clouds that mass
over the moon’s pure light
and the mists that cloud our mind –
do thou sweep away as well.
Now we disappear –
well, what must we think of it?
From the sky we came – now we may go back again.
That’s at least one point of view.
. . .
Hojo Ujimasa (1538-1590)
“Poema de muerte”
.
Viento otoñal de la noche,
sopla lejos las nubes que obstruyen
la luz pura de la luna
y la neblina que nubla nuestra mente-
también bárrela lejos.
Ahora nosotros desaparecemos –
Y bien, ¿qué deberíamos pensar de esto?
Del cielo vinimos- ahora debemos regresar otra vez.
Ese es al menos un punto de vista.
. . .
The following poem by Akiko Yosano was composed as if to her younger brother who was drafted to fight in the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905). It was never specifically anti-war only that the poet wished that her brother not sacrifice his life. At the time the poem was not censored but in the militaristic 1930s it was banned in Japan.
.
Akiko Yosano/ 与謝野晶子(1878-1942)
.
Oh, my brother, I weep for you.
Do not give your life.
Last-born among us,
You are the most beloved of our parents.
Did they make you grasp the sword
And teach you to kill?
Did they raise you to the age of twenty-four,
Telling you to kill and die?
.
Heir to our family name,
You will be master of this store,
Old and honoured, in Sakai, and therefore,
Brother, do not give your life.
For you, what does it matter
Whether Lu-Shun Fortress falls or not?
The code of merchant houses
Says nothing about this.
.
Brother, do not give your life.
His Majesty the Emperor
Goes not himself into the battle.
Could he, with such deeply noble heart,
Think it an honour for men
To spill one another’s blood
And die like beasts?
.
Oh, my brother, in that battle
Do not give your life.
Think of mother, who lost father just last autumn.
How much lonelier is her grief at home
Since you were drafted.
Even as we hear about peace in this great Imperial Reign,
Her hair turns whiter by the day.
.
And do you ever think of your young bride,
Who crouches weeping behind the shop curtains
In her gentle loveliness?
Or have you forgotten her?
The two of you were together not ten months before parting.
What must she feel in her young girl’s heart?
Who else has she to rely on in this world?
Brother, do not give your life.
. . .
Akiko Yosano/ 与謝野晶子(Poetisa japonesa, 1878-1942)
.
Oh, hermano mío, lloro por ti.
No entregues tu vida.
El más pequeño de nosotros,
El más amado por nuestros padres.
¿Ellos te hicieron empuñar la espada
y te enseñaron a matar?
¿Ellos te criaron hasta los veinticuatro
para matar y morir?
.
Heredero de nuestro nombre
Tú serás el dueño de esta tienda,
Vieja y honrada, en Sakai, y por eso,
Hermano, no entregues tu vida.
¿A ti que puede importarte
si la fortaleza Lu- Shun cae o no?
En el código de los comerciantes
No hay nada sobre esto.
.
Hermano, no entregues tu vida.
Su Majestad el Emperador
no pelea su propia batalla.
¿Puede él, con su profundamente noble corazón,
pensar que es un honor para los hombres
derramar la sangre de uno y otro
y morir como bestias?
Oh, hermano mío, en esa batalla
no entregues tu vida.
Piensa en mamá, que perdió a papá apenas el otoño pasado.
Qué tan solitaria es su pena en casa
desde que te enlistaron.
Incluso cuando escuchamos sobre paz en este gran Reino Imperial
su cabello se torna más blanco cada día.
.
¿Alguna vez piensas en tu joven novia,
que se acuclilla llorando tras las cortinas de la tienda
con su gentil afecto?
¿O la has olvidado?
Ustedes estuvieron juntos no más de diez meses antes de separarse.
¿Cómo debe sentirse ella en su joven corazón de niña?
¿En quién más puede confiar en este mundo?
Hemano, no entregues tu vida.
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu (Japanese poetess, 1903-1930)
“To Love Everything”
.
I wish I could love them,
Anything and everything.
.
Onions, tomatoes, fish,
I wish I could love them all.
.
Side dishes, and everything.
Because Mother made them.
.
I wish I could love them,
Anyone and everyone.
.
Doctors, and crows,
I wish I could love them all.
.
Everyone in the whole world
– Because God made them.
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu (Poetisa japonesa, 1903-1930)
“Amar todo”
.
Desearía poder amarlos,
a cualquier cosa y a todo.
Cebollas, tomates y pescados,
desearía poder amarlos todos.
Guarniciones y todo,
porque Mamá los hizo.
Desearía poder amarlos,
a cualquiera y a todos.
Doctores y cuervos,
desearía poder amarlos todos.
Todos en todo el mundo
– Porque Dios los hizo.
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu
“Me, the little bird, and the bell”
.
私が両手をひろげても、(watashi ga ryōte wo hirogete mo)
お空はちっとも飛べないが、(osora wa chitto mo tobenai ga)
飛べる小鳥は私のように、(toberu kotori ha watashi yō ni)
地面を速く走れない。(jimen wo hayaku hashirenai)
.
私が体をゆすっても、(watashi ga karada wo yusutte mo)
きれいな音はでないけど、(kirei na oto wa denai kedo)
あの鳴る鈴は私のように、(anonaru suzu wa watashi no yō ni)
たくさんな唄は知らないよ。(takusan na uta wa shiranai yo)
.
鈴と、小鳥と、それから私、(suzu to kotori to sorekara watashi)
みんなちがって、みんないい。(minna chigatte, minna ii)
. . .
Even if I stretch out my arms
I can’t fly up into the sky,
But the little bird who can fly
Cannot run fast along the ground like me.
.
Even if I shake my body,
No beautiful sound comes out,
But the ringing bell does not
Know many songs like me.
.
The bell, the little bird and, finally, me:
We’re all different, but we’re all good.
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu
“El pajarito, la campanilla y yo”
.
Aunque estire mis brazos
No puedo elevarme hacia el cielo
Pero el pajarito que puede volar
No puede correr rápido sobre la tierra, como yo.
.
Aunque sacuda mi cuerpo
Ningún bello sonido se escuchará
Pero la campanilla no conoce
Tantas canciones como yo.
.
La campanilla, el pajarito y finalmente, yo:
Todos somos diferentes pero todos igualmente buenos.
. . .
Kenzo Ishijima(Japanese Kamikaze pilot, WW2 / Piloto japonés kamikaze, Segunda Guerra Mundial)
.
Since my body is a shell
I am going to take it off
and put on a glory that will never wear out.
. . .
Ya que mi cuerpo es una carcasa
Voy a quitármela de encima
Y a vestirme de gloria que nunca se desgastará.
. . .
“Doki no Sakura”: a popular soldiers’ song of the Japanese Imperial Navy during WW2 in which a Kamikaze naval aviator addresses his fellow pilot – parted in death:
.
“Doki no Sakura”(“Cherry blossoms from the same season”)
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree
That bloomed in the naval academy’s garden.
Blossoms know they must blow in the wind someday,
Blossoms in the wind, fallen for their country.
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree
That blossomed in the flight school garden.
I wanted us to fall together, just as we had sworn to do.
Oh, why did you have to die, and fall before me?
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree,
Though we fall far away from one another.
We will bloom again together in Yasukuni Shrine.
Spring will find us again – blossoms of the same cherry tree.
. . .
“Doki no Sakura”: una canción popular entre los soldados japoneses de la Segunda Guerra Mundial:
.
“Flores de cerezo de la misma estación”
.
Tú y yo, flores de un mismo cerezo
que floreció en el jardín de la academia naval.
Flores sabedoras de que deben volar en el viento algún día,
flores en el viento, caídas por su país.
.
Tú y yo, flores de un mismo cerezo
que floreció en el jardín de la escuela de aviación.
Quería que cayéramos juntos, como habíamos jurado hacer.
Oh, ¿por qué tenías que morir y caer antes que yo?
.
Tú y yo, flores de un mismo cerezo,
aunque caemos lejos el uno del otro,
floreceremos juntos otra vez en el santuario Yasukuni.
La primavera nos encontrará otra vez – flores de un mismo cerezo.
ZP_Cherry Blossom and Crow by Ogata Gekko, 1859 – 1920_print courtesy of ogatagekkodotnet
.
Sadako Kurihara (Japanese poetess, 1913-2005)
“ When we say ‘Hiroshima’ ”
.
When we say Hiroshima, do people answer,
gently, Ah, Hiroshima? …Say Hiroshima,
and hear Pearl Harbor. Say Hiroshima,
and hear Rape of Nanjing. Say Hiroshima,
and hear women and children in Manila, thrown
into trenches, doused with gasoline, and
burned alive. Say Hiroshima, and hear
echoes of blood and fire. Ah, Hiroshima,
we first must wash the blood off our own hands.
. . .
Sadako Kurihara (Poetisa japonesa, 1913-2005)
“Cuando decimos ‘Hiroshima’”
.
Cuando decimos Hiroshima, acaso la gente contesta,
gentilmente, Ah Hiroshima?… Di Hiroshima,
y escucha Pearl Harbor. Di Hiroshima,
y escucha la Violación de Nanjing. Di Hiroshima
y escucha a las mujeres y los niños en Manila, arrojados
en zanjas, empapados en gasolina y
quemados vivos. Di Hiroshima, y escucha
ecos de sangre y fuego. Ah, Hiroshima,
primero debemos lavarnos la sangre de nuestras propias manos.
. . .
Traducciones del inglés al español / Translations from English to Spanish: Nuna López
. . . . .
Zócalo Poets will return February 2013 / Zócalo Poets…Volveremos en febrero de 2013
Posted: December 31, 2012 Filed under: English, Jakuren, Japanese, Oliver Herford, Yosano Hiroshi, ZP Translator: Alexander Best Comments Off on Zócalo Poets will return February 2013 / Zócalo Poets…Volveremos en febrero de 2013¿Eres poeta o poetisa?
¡Mándanos tus poemas – en cualquier idioma!
Are you a poet or poetess?
Send us your poems – in any language!
zocalopoets@hotmail.com
.
.
与謝野 鉄幹 / Yosano Hiroshi (1873-1935)
.
yama fukami /deep in the mountains /en lo profundo de la cordillera
haru to mo shiranu / beyond the knowledge of spring /
más allá del conocimiento de la primavera
matsu no to ni / on a pine bough door /sobre una puerta de ramas de pino
taedae kakaru / there are faintly suspended / hay, delicadamente suspendidos,
yuki no tamamizu / beads of liquid snow / gotas de nieve líquida.
. . .
Oliver Herford (1863-1935)
“I heard a bird sing”
.
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
.
“We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,”
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
. . .
“Oí un pájaro, cantante pájaro” (Oliver Herford, 1863-1935)
.
Oí un pájaro, cantante pájaro,
En l’ oscuridad de diciembre
– algo mágico, esa voz, y
Dulce en mi recuerdo.
.
“Estamos más cerca de la primavera
Que estuvimos en septiembre.”
Oí un pájaro, cantante pájaro,
En la luz tenue, diciembre.
. . .
藤原定長 / Jakuren (1139-1202)
.
kaze wa kiyoshi / the breeze is fresh / fresca, la brisa,
tsuki wa sayakeshi / the moon is bright; / brillante, la luna;
iza tomoni / come, we shall dance till dawn, / ven, bailaremos hasta el alba,
odori akasan / and say farewell to age… / y a la vejez diremos Adiós.
oi no nagori ni…
.
Translations of ‘tanka’ poems by Yosano Hiroshi and Jakuren from Japanese © Michael Haldane
Translations into Spanish / Traducciones al español: Alexander Best
. . . . .
金子 みすゞ Kaneko Misuzu: We’re all different, but we’re all good… / Tutti diversi, tutti ugualmente giusti…
Posted: December 19, 2012 Filed under: English, Italian, Japanese, Kaneko Misuzu Comments Off on 金子 みすゞ Kaneko Misuzu: We’re all different, but we’re all good… / Tutti diversi, tutti ugualmente giusti…
ZP_Five Egrets Descending in Snow_Japanese woodblock print by Ohara Koson,1878-1945
Kaneko Misuzu (Japanese poetess, 1903-1930)
“Me, the little bird, and the bell”
.
私が両手をひろげても、(watashi ga ryōte wo hirogete mo)
お空はちっとも飛べないが、(osora wa chitto mo tobenai ga)
飛べる小鳥は私のように、 (toberu kotori ha watashi yō ni)
地面を速く走れない。 (jimen wo hayaku hashirenai)
.
私が体をゆすっても、 (watashi ga karada wo yusutte mo)
きれいな音はでないけど、 (kirei na oto wa denai kedo)
あの鳴る鈴は私のように、 (anonaru suzu wa watashi no yō ni)
たくさんな唄は知らないよ。 (takusan na uta wa shiranai yo)
.
鈴と、小鳥と、それから私、 (suzu to kotori to sorekara watashi)
みんなちがって、みんないい。 (minna chigatte, minna ii)
. . .
Even if I stretch out my arms
I can’t fly up into the sky,
But the little bird who can fly
Cannot run fast along the ground like me.
.
Even if I shake my body,
No beautiful sound comes out,
But the ringing bell does not
Know many songs like me.
.
The bell, the little bird and, finally, me:
We’re all different, but we’re all good.
.
A big Thank-You to Doug for his translation from Japanese to English!
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu (Poetessa giapponese, 1903-1930)
“Io, l’uccellino e la campanella”
.
Per quanto io allarghi le braccia,
non potrò mai volare in cielo, ma
l’uccellino che può, come me
non saprà correre veloce sulla terra.
.
Per quanto io scuota il corpo,
non ne uscirà un bel suono, ma
quella campanella che risuona, come me
non saprà mai tante canzoni.
.
La campanella, l’uccellino ed io,
Tutti diversi, tutti ugualmente giusti.
.
Traduzione di Radicchio – Grazie!
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu
“Piled-Up Snow”
Two markedly-different translations from Japanese into English:
Special Thanks to Henry Stokeley and Cha
.
積もった雪
.
上の雪 寒かろな
冷たい月がさしていて
下の雪 重かろな
何百人ものせていて
中の雪 さみしかろうな
そらもじべたも見えないで
. . .
Above the snow it’s cold,
the icy moon shines from it.
Below the snow it’s heavy,
not a hundred men could lift it.
In the snow it’s so lonely,
neither the sky nor the bare earth are seen.
. . .
Top layer of snow – you must be shivering
under the frosty light of the moon.
Bottom layer – you must feel so heavy
under the weight of hundreds of human beings.
Middle layer – you must be lonely;
you can see neither sky nor earth.
. . .
Kaneko Misuzu
“To Love Everything”
(translated from Japanese by Alex Fyffe)
.
I wish I could love them,
Anything and everything.
.
Onions, tomatoes, fish,
I wish I could love them all.
.
Side dishes, and everything.
Because Mother made them.
.
I wish I could love them,
Anyone and everyone.
.
Doctors, and crows,
I wish I could love them all.
.
Everyone in the whole world
– Because God made them.
.
わたしはすきになりたいな、
何でもかんでもみいんな.
.
ねぎも、トマトも、おさかなも、
のこらずすきになりたいな.
.
うちのおかずは、みいんな。
おかあさまがおつくりになったもの.
.
わたしはすきになりたいな、
だれでもかれでもみいんな.
.
お医者さんでも、からすでも、
のこらずすきになりたいな.
.
世界のものはみｲ んな、
神さまがおつくりになったもの.
. . . . .
Remembrance Day: Japanese + American poems of war and “peece”
Posted: November 11, 2012 Filed under: Akiko Yosano, English, Hiroshi Kashiwagi, Japanese, Sadako Kurihara | Tags: Remembrance Day poems Comments Off on Remembrance Day: Japanese + American poems of war and “peece”
Ouchi Yoshitaka (a “daimyo” or feudal lord, 1507-1551)
.
Both the victor and the vanquished are
but drops of dew, but bolts of lightning –
thus should we view the world.
. . .
Uesugi Kenshin (a “daimyo” or feudal lord, 1530-1578)
.
Even a life-long prosperity is but one cup of ‘sake’;
A life of forty-nine years is passed in a dream;
I know not what life is, nor death.
Year in year out – all but a dream.
Both Heaven and Hell are left behind;
I stand in the moonlit dawn,
Free from clouds of ‘attachment’.
. . .
北条 氏政
(1538-1590)
雨雲の おほへる月も 胸の霧も はらひにけりな 秋の夕風
我が身今 消ゆとやいかに 思ふべき 空より来たり 空へ帰れば
吹きとふく 風な恨みそ 花の春 紅葉も残る 秋あらばこそ
. . .
Hojo Ujimasa (1538-1590)
Hojo was a “daimyo” and “samurai” who, after a shameful defeat, committed “seppuku” or ritual suicide by self-disembowelment. He composed a poem before he killed himself:
“Death Poem”
.
Autumn wind of evening,
blow away the clouds that mass
over the moon’s pure light
and the mists that cloud our mind –
do thou sweep away as well.
Now we disappear –
well, what must we think of it?
From the sky we came – now we may go back again.
That’s at least one point of view.
. . .
The following poem by Akiko Yosano was composed as if to her younger brother who was drafted to fight in the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905). It was never specifically anti-war only that the poet wished that her brother not sacrifice his life. At the time the poem was not censored but in the militaristic 1930s it was banned in Japan.
.
Akiko Yosano / 与謝野 晶子 (1878-1942)
.
Oh, my brother, I weep for you.
Do not give your life.
Last-born among us,
You are the most belovéd of our parents.
Did they make you grasp the sword
And teach you to kill?
Did they raise you to the age of twenty-four,
Telling you to kill and die?
.
Heir to our family name,
You will be master of this store,
Old and honoured, in Sakai, and therefore,
Brother, do not give your life.
For you, what does it matter
Whether Lu-Shun Fortress falls or not?
The code of merchant houses
Says nothing about this.
.
Brother, do not give your life.
His Majesty the Emperor
Goes not himself into the battle.
Could he, with such deeply noble heart,
Think it an honour for men
To spill one another’s blood
And die like beasts?
.
Oh, my brother, in that battle
Do not give your life.
Think of mother, who lost father just last autumn.
How much lonelier is her grief at home
Since you were drafted.
Even as we hear about peace in this great Imperial Reign,
Her hair turns whiter by the day.
.
And do you ever think of your young bride,
Who crouches weeping behind the shop curtains
In her gentle loveliness?
Or have you forgotten her?
The two of you were together not ten months before parting.
What must she feel in her young girl’s heart?
Who else has she to rely on in this world?
Brother, do not give your life.
Nogi Maresuke / 乃木 希典
(1849-1912)
Two poems written during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905
– Nogi Maresuke was a commanding general:
.
Mountain and river, grass and tree, grow more barren;
for ten miles winds smell of blood in the fresh battlefield.
Conquering horses do not advance nor do men talk;
outside Jinzhou Castle, I stand in the setting sun.
…..
Emperor’s army, a million, conquered the powerful foe;
field battles and fort assaults made mountains of corpses.
Ashamed – how can I face their fathers, grandfathers?
We triumph today?
. . .
Kenzo Ishijima (Japanese Kamikaze pilot, WW2)
.
Since my body is a shell
I am going to take it off
and put on a glory that will never wear out.
A popular soldiers’ song of the Japanese Imperial Navy during WW2 in which a Kamikaze naval aviator addresses his fellow pilot – parted in death:
“Doki no Sakura” (Cherry blossoms from the same season)
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree
That bloomed in the naval academy’s garden.
Blossoms know they must blow in the wind someday,
Blossoms in the wind, fallen for their country.
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree
That blossomed in the flight school garden.
I wanted us to fall together, just as we had sworn to do.
Oh, why did you have to die, and fall before me?
.
You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree,
Though we fall far away from one another.
We will bloom again together in Yasukuni Shrine.
Spring will find us again – blossoms of the same cherry tree.
. . .
Sadako Kurihara (1912-2005)
Sadako was a controversial poet in Japan, censored during the post-War American Occupation for describing in detail the horrors post-Atomic Bomb in Hiroshima (she was present Aug.6th 1945). She also took a tough, critical stand toward Japan’s aggressions (sometimes referred to as the Asian Holocaust) against China and Korea.
.
“ When we say ‘Hiroshima’ ”
.
When we say Hiroshima, do people answer,
gently, Ah, Hiroshima? ..Say Hiroshima,
and hear Pearl Harbor. Say Hiroshima,
and hear Rape of Nanjing. Say Hiroshima,
and hear women and children in Manila, thrown
into trenches, doused with gasoline, and
burned alive. Say Hiroshima, and hear
echoes of blood and fire. Ah, Hiroshima,
we first must wash the blood off our own hands.
. . .
Hiroshi Kashiwagi (Librarian and poet, born 1922, Sacramento, California)
Hiroshi is a “Nisei”(2nd generation Japanese-American). He was interned at Tule Lake Segregation Camp from 1942-1946. Here is a poem he wrote about his childhood in California:
.
“Pee in the puddle”
.
Wes was fat, something
of a classroom joke
we laughed when he
was late which was
almost every day and
we laughed when he
came on time. John
was always so fair
he let me play
Chinese tag with
them on the way
home from school
but I’d like to remember
him as our fourth
grade Santa Claus
though actually he
was slender with
a high nose and
very German it was
he who thought we
.
should pee in the
puddle. He called
our things brownies
I know he got it
from mine theirs
were white blue
white I wonder
what became of
Wes. I know John
was killed during
World War II
flying for the RAF
crazy guy couldn’t
wait for the U.S.
to enter the war.
I suppose Wes is
still fat and lazy
probably a father many times
.
anyway we wasted
a lot of time
after school. Three
golden loops rising
out of the
brown puddle into
which in time we
all three were
shoved when at
last I came home
crying for my
bread and jam I
was smelling quite
a bit of pee.
Remembering now
I can almost
smell it Wes’s
John’s and mine.
. . . . .
Aki no ki no…Autumn begins…Стихи про осень…Autumn poems…
Posted: September 21, 2012 Filed under: English, German, Japanese, Russian, Spanish Comments Off on Aki no ki no…Autumn begins…Стихи про осень…Autumn poems…
Марина Ивановна Цветаева (1892-1941)
.
Солнцем жилки налиты — не кровью —
На руке, коричневой уже.
Я одна с моей большой любовью
К собственной моей душе.
.
Жду кузнечика, считаю до ста,
Стебелёк срываю и жую…
— Странно чувствовать так сильно и так просто
Мимолётность жизни — и свою.
.
Marina Tsvetaeva (1892-1941)
.
My veins are filled with sun –
Not blood –
Brown is a hand – already like straw.
Alone I am with this strong love,
With love to my own wandering soul.
.
Waiting for a grasshopper
I count to ten,
Gathering flower-stalks to taste it…
– Feeling so simple, feeling so strange
The transience of life –
And me.
*
А́нна Андре́евна (1889-1966)
.
Есть в осени первоначальной
Короткая, но дивная пора —
Весь день стоит как бы хрустальный,
И лучезарны вечера…
.
Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)
.
At the beginning of autumn
There is a short but wondrous time
When days seem made of crystal
And evenings are radiant…
*
Александр Блок (1880-1921)
.
Медлительной чредой нисходит день осенний,
Медлительно крутится желтый лист,
И день прозрачно свеж, и воздух дивно чист –
Душа не избежит невидимого тленья.
.
Так, каждый день стареется она,
И каждый год, как желтый лист кружится,
Всё кажется, и помнится, и мнится,
Что осень прошлых лет была не так грустна.
.
Alexander Blok (1880-1921)
.
In slow motion an autumn day is coming,
A yellow leaf is spinning tardily,
The day is quite fresh, the air divinely clear –
My soul shall not avoid its unseen fading.
.
Thus, one grows older with every day,
And every year spins like a yellow leaf,
As I enliven memories, it seems to me
That autumns of years past were not so sad…
*
Goethe (1749-1832)
“Herbstgefühl”
.
Fetter grüne, du Laub,
Am Rebengeländer
Hier mein Fenster herauf!
Gedrängter quellet,
Zwillingsbeeren, und reifet
Schneller und glänzend voller!
Euch brütet der Mutter Sonne
Scheideblick, euch umsäuselt
Des holden Himmels
Fruchtende Fülle;
Euch kühlet des Mondes
Freundlicher Zauberhauch,
Und euch betauen, ach!
Aus diesen Augen
Der ewig belebenden Liebe
Voll schwellende Tränen.
.
Goethe (1749-1832)
“Autumn Emotion”
.
A fuller green, you leaves,
up here to my window, along the grape trellis!
Swell more crowdedly,
indistinguishable berries,
and ripen more quickly
and more fully gleaming!
On you broods the mother sun’s parting glance,
all around you rustles the lovely sky’s fruitful abundance;
you are cooled by the moon’s kindly and magical breath,
you are bedewed
—ah!—
by the tears overflowing from
these eyes of eternally enlivening love.
*
Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)
“Te recuerdo como eras…”
.
Te recuerdo como eras en el último otoño.
Eras la boina gris y el corazón en calma.
En tus ojos peleaban las llamas del crepúsculo.
Y las hojas caían en el agua de tu alma.
.
Apegada a mis brazos como una enredadera,
las hojas recogían tu voz lenta y en calma.
Hoguera de estupor en que mi sed ardía.
Dulce jacinto azul torcido sobre mi alma.
.
Siento viajar tus ojos y es distante el otoño:
boina gris, voz de pájaro y corazón de casa
hacia donde emigraban
mis profundos anhelos
y caían mis besos alegres como brasas.
.
Cielo desde un navío. Campo desde los cerros.
Tu recuerdo es de luz, de humo, de estanque en calma!
Más allá de tus ojos ardían los crepúsculos.
Hojas secas de otoño giraban en tu alma.
.
Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)
“I remember you as you were…”
.
I remember you as you were that final autumn.
You were: grey beret, still heart.
In your eyes the flames of twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.
.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant,
Leaves harvested your voice slow, at peace.
Bonfire of awe where my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted upon my soul.
.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house,
towards which my deep longings migrated
and my kisses fell, happy as embers.
.
Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
*
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
“Autumn Fires”
.
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
.
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
*
藤原敏行
秋立つ日よめる
あききぬとめにはさやかに見えぬども
風のをとにぞおどろかれぬる
.
aki tatsu hi yomeru
aki kinu to me ni wa sayaka ni mienudomo
kaze no oto ni zo odorokarenuru
.
Fujiwara no Toshiyuki 藤原敏行
(10th century, Japan)
.
“Composed on the first day of Autumn…”
That autumn has come is not obvious to the eye,
rather, I was surprised by the sound of the wind.
Kaya Shirao (1738-1791, Japan)
Aki no ki no / Autumn begins
.
Aki no ki no
Aka tombo ni
Sadamarinu.
.
The start of Autumn
Is always decided by
The red dragonfly.
_____
Special thanks:
David Bentley Hart (German, Spanish translations)
+ Yelena (Russian translations)
The Face of Summer: ひまわり Tornasol Sunflower Tournesol Girasole Girassol ひまわり
Posted: July 31, 2012 Filed under: English, French, Italian, Japanese, Portuguese, Spanish Comments Off on The Face of Summer: ひまわり Tornasol Sunflower Tournesol Girasole Girassol ひまわり
Mang Ke (1950 – )
Sunflower in the Sun (Excerpt)
きみは見たのか
陽光の中のあのひまわりを
見たまえ、うつむくこともなく
頭（こうべ）をうしろにふり向け
そっぽをむいてしまった
まるで一口に
あの頸にかけられた
あの太陽の手に引っ張られている縄を
噛み切ろうとするかのように
きみは見たのか
あの頭をもたげ
太陽に怒りの視線をなげかえすひまわりを
その首は太陽をさえぎるほど
その首はたとえ太陽のない時でも
やはり光の束を輝き放っている ….. …..
*
Mang Ke
Sunflower in the Sun (excerpt)
Do you see?
Do you see that sunflower in the sun?
You see, it didn’t bow its head
But turned its head back
As if to bite through
The rope around its neck
Held by the sun’s hands.
*
Do you see it?
Do you see that sunflower, raising its head
Glaring at the sun?
Its head almost eclipses the sun
Yet even when there is no sun
Its head still glows. ….. …..
Anónima
Invocación (un extracto)
Quédate bajo el brillo tornasol
o arrástrame
a tu sombría transparencia
Murciélago de luz
que sabe tanto de volar
como de sueño
agarrado
del techo
y de cabeza hacia la oscuridad.
Quédate bajo el brillo tornasol y arrástrame
a tu sombría transparencia
Soy sólo yo, a contracorriente
sólo mi corazón,
piedra vertiginosa
que rueda.
Dale Harris (New Mexico, USA)
Manzano Sunflowers
You missed Indian Market
And of course the sunflowers.
As usual they swept across August
At first a few, a yellow trickle along the fence line
Then more, making pools in the pasture
And splashing down into the “arroyo”
Then, incredibly many more,
Dappling the distance,
As though a giant hand had buttered the land.
*
Yet with the entire prairie to expand into,
They prefer crowds of themselves
They mass along the roadside,
Lined up as though a parade were about to pass.
Here and there one stands alone,
But not for long.
Soon his kin will come
And there will be sunflower squalor,
There will be sunflower squalor, a floral slum.
*
Once they are out,
They will not be ignored.
Stretching their skinny stalks,
They top our roof-line,
Press against the window screens,
And peep in at the door.
Familiar foot paths to the out buildings are obscured,
And from the road we seem afloat,
Our cabin, an odd tin boat
In a sea of sunflower faces.
*
They are the most staccato of flowers.
I catch them humming snatches of polkas
And John Philip Sousa marches,
Bobbing in the wind to the Boogaloo,
The Boogie Woogie and the Lindy Hop.
I call their names,
Clem, Clarissa, Sarah Jane
To try and tame them.
*
My neighbour comes by.
She has a field full
They’re useless, she complains.
Her horses can’t eat them.
I should hope not! I exclaim,
After she’s gone.
*
I don’t remember if you even liked sunflowers
But you liked Life
And they are all about that.
Today I wrote to your family, finally.
I expect they are occupying themselves,
With beautiful gestures
In order to get over the grief of you.
As for me, I have sunflowers…
Michèle Corti
Tournesol
Vieille fleur du Pérou au bel astre pareil,
Sunflower, Sonnenblume, Girasol, Girassole
L’oiseau trouve un abri sous ton grand parasol,
Au plus chaud de l’été, éclosent tes merveilles.
*
“Hélianthus annuus” ou même “grand soleil”
Tu envahis les champs de mille têtes fières
Qui rebrodent d’or pur notre dame la Terre
Frissonnante d’azur, émeraude et vermeil.
*
De ton coeur irradié par l’astre solennel
Va couler la douceur d’une huile flavescente
Radieux tournesol, sur ta tige puissante
Tu règnes glorieux, et parais éternel !
*
La folie de Vincent a cru, dans tes pétales
Entrevoir les grands feux d’un lointain paradis
Tu as su fasciner le grand peintre maudit
Qui, au milieu des champs recherchait les étoiles…
Eugenio Montale (1896-1981)
Portami il girasole ch’io lo trapianti
Portami il girasole ch’io lo trapianti
nel mio terreno bruciato dal salino,
e mostri tutto il giorno agli azzurri specchianti
del cielo l’ansietà del suo volto giallino.
*
Tendono alla chiarità le cose oscure,
si esauriscono i corpi in un fluire
di tinte: queste in musiche. Svanire
è dunque la ventura delle venture.
*
Portami tu la pianta che conduce
dove sorgono bionde trasparenze
e vapora la vita quale essenza;
portami il girasole impazzito di luce.
Lô Borges e Márcio Borges
Um Girassol da Cor do Seu Cabelo
(Letras cantada por Milton Nascimento)
Vento solar e estrelas do mar
a terra azul da cor de seu vestido
vento solar e estrelas do mar
você ainda quer morar comigo.
*
Se eu cantar não chore não
é só poesia
eu só preciso ter você por mais um dia
ainda gosto de dançar, bom dia,
como vai você?
*
Sol, girassol, verde vento solar
você ainda quer morar comigo
vento solar e estrelas do mar
você ainda quer morar comigo.
芝不器男 Fukio Shiba (1903-1930)
Sunflower Haiku
向日葵の蕊（しべ）を見るとき海消えし
Looking into the sunflower’s centre,
the sea has disappeared.
The Voice of Summer: セミ Cigarra Cicada Cigale Cicala Cigarra セミ
Posted: July 31, 2012 Filed under: English, French, Italian, Japanese, Portuguese, Spanish Comments Off on The Voice of Summer: セミ Cigarra Cicada Cigale Cicala Cigarra セミ
Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)
セミ
静けさや
岩に滲み入る
蝉の声
shizukesaya
iwa ni shimiiru
semi no koe
utter silence
penetrating the rocks
the cicada’s voice
María Elena Walsh (1930-2011)
Como la Cigarra
Tantas veces me mataron,
tantas veces me morí,
sin embargo estoy aqui
resucitando.
Gracias doy a la desgracia
y a la mano con puñal
porque me mató tan mal,
y seguí cantando.
*
Cantando al sol como la cigarra
después de un año bajo la tierra,
igual que sobreviviente
que vuelve de la guerra.
*
Tantas veces me borraron,
tantas desaparecí,
a mi propio entierro fui
sola y llorando.
Hice un nudo en el pañuelo
pero me olvidé después
que no era la única vez,
y volví cantando.
*
Tantas veces te mataron,
tantas resucitarás,
tantas noches pasarás
desesperando.
A la hora del naufragio
y la de la oscuridad
alguien te rescatará
para ir cantando.
Roderic Quinn (Australia, 1867-1949)
The Song of the Cicadas
Yesterday there came to me
from a green and graceful tree
as I loitered listlessly
nothing doing, nothing caring,
light and warmth and fragrance sharing
with the butterfly and the bee,
while the sapling-tops a-glisten
danced and trembled, wild and willing
such a sudden sylvan shrilling
that I could not choose but listen
Green Cicadas, Black Cicadas,
happy in the gracious weather,
Floury-baker, Double-Drummer,
all as one and all together,
how they voiced the golden summer.
*
Stealing back there came to me
as I loitered listlessly
‘neath the green and graceful tree,
nothing doing, nothing caring,
boyhood moments spent in sharing
with the butterfly and the bee
youth and freedom, warmth and glamour
while Cicadas round me shrilling,
set the sleepy noontide thrilling
with their keen insistent clamour.
*
Green Cicadas, Black cicadas,
happy in the gracious weather
Floury-bakers, double-drummers
all as one and all together—
how they voice the bygone summers!
Marcel Pagnol (1895-1974)
La Cigale
Le soleil fendille la terre,
Aucun bruit ne trouble les champs;
On n’entend plus les joyeux chants
Des oiseaux qui chantaient naguère.
Tous par la chaleur assoupis
Sous les buissons se sont tapis.
Seule une cigale est sur l’aire.
*
Son ventre sonore se meut;
Sur une gerbe elle est posée;
Seule elle n’est point épuisée
Par l’astre à l’haleine de feu.
Et la chanteuse infatigable
Jette dans l’air brûlant et bleu
Sa ritournelle interminable.
Francesco Fabris Manini
La Cicala
La cicala del mattino frinisce
E mi sveglia su una tazzina di caffè
Bisbigliando gracili parole su ascolti assonnati
Di spettinati pensieri.
L’uscio s’apre al giorno con forzati ardori
Che dissolverà la sera sui passi
Di un solitario ritorno.
Olegário Mariano (1889-1958)
A Última Cigarra
Todas cantaram para mim. A ouvi-las,
Purifiquei meu sonho adolescente,
Quando a vida corria doidamente
Como um regato de águas intranqüilas.
*
Diante da luz do sol que eu tinha em frente,
Escancarei os braços e as pupilas.
Cigarras que eu amei! Para possui-las,
Sofri na vida como pouca gente.
*
E veio o outono… Por que veio o outono ?
Prata nos meus cabelos… Abandono…
Deserta a estrada… Quanta folha morta!
*
Mas, no esplendor do derradeiro poente,
Uma nova cigarra, diferente;
Como um raio de sol, bateu-me à porta.
正岡 子規 Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902)
セミ
tsuku tsuku boshi / tsuku tsuku boshi / bakari nari
nothing but
cic-cic-cicada
cic-cic-cicada
Zócalo Poets 