Haiku harusamu 寒き春(さむきはる) / Haiku for This Cold Spring…Kyoshi & Issa

Toronto Canada 2014_Haiku harusamu

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

ZP_25.12.2013

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

 

ZP_El Círculo de Amigos_Invierno de 2013_2014_Toronto_Canadá

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

ZP_Toronto Ice Storm_22.12.2013_photograph by Melinda Best

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

ZP_Toronto_Canadá_25.12.2013

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

ZP_A light snowfall 2_Toronto Canada December 13th 2013

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/confinementin 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 – iroriin 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!

.

ZP_A light snowfall_Toronto Canada December 13th 2013

.     .     .     .     .


Poemas japoneses – de guerra, del honor, de la ternura – traducidos por Nuna López

 

ZP_Samurai writing a poem on a flowering cherry-tree trunk_print by Ogata Gekko 1859-1920 courtesy of ogatagekkodotnetZP_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 ogatagekkodotnetZP_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

¿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

.

Snowball 1

Snowball 2Snowball 3

.

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…

ZP_Five Egrets Descending in Snow_Japanese woodblock print by Ohara Koson,1878-1945

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”

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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.

 

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A big Thank-You to Doug for his translation from Japanese to English!

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Kaneko Misuzu (Poetessa giapponese, 1903-1930)

“Io, l’uccellino e la campanella”

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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.

 

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Traduzione di Radicchio – Grazie!

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Kaneko Misuzu

“Piled-Up Snow”

Two markedly-different translations from Japanese into English:

Special Thanks to Henry Stokeley and Cha

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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)

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I wish I could love them,

Anything and everything.

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Onions, tomatoes, fish,

I wish I could love them all.

.

Side dishes, and everything.

Because Mother made them.

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I wish I could love them,

Anyone and everyone.

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Doctors, and crows,

I wish I could love them all.

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Everyone in the whole world

– Because God made them.

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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”

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)

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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”

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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.

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Akiko Yosano / 与謝野 晶子 (1878-1942)

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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?

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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.

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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?

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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:

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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)

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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.

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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.

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“ 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:

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“Pee in the puddle”

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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.

.     .     .     .     .