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
. . . . .
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.
. . . . .
Zócalo Poets 