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samedi 12 avril 2008

Area ano shine - Her, that day... (three poems translated in English)

Her, that day... (Area ano shine)

On the way we went collecting buds,
I remember, a turtledove was cooing.
On the swamp we went picking up petasites,
I remember, a cuckoo was singing.

By the river she answered to me for the first time
Wild roses were scenting,
And in the pine woods she listened to me
I remember, a tarin of the Alders was warbling.

Ah, now that all those things are vanishing,
At the dusk in the center of Tokyo with its bustle,
What I understand deep in my heart is
The feeling that made her, that day,
Throw away the petals of dandelion, one by one
One by one, on the way home from the woods.




Lightning over rice field (Nashirono inapikari)

Frogs croak, and there are flashes of lightning over rice field but
She hasn't come out yet.
Rain begins to fall finally, and I'm getting wet to the skin but
I don't want to move from here for ever.

The rain's getting harder bit by bit, so
The frogs have stopped croaking and
It seems late now, so
The lights in her house have been turned off.




Life (Kurashi) – Wedding night

That's only wind blowing,
It's the poplar trees that make noise.
Don't cry.
Don't cry.
Have you ever seen brides crying?
Do you cry because we have not a penny?
Why do we have to celebrate such a miserable marriage?

(Regard all this as the ceremony.)

Even if we press our thin bodies one another,
It doesn't make any heat.
Ah! we two
Are like the flies that steal sunlight.
From tomorrow, will you go to the office in purple skirt and black cape, you too?
Miserable bride and bridegroom.
Don't cry.
Don't cry.
There's nothing to be scared of.
That's only wind blowing,
It's the poplar trees that make noise.

vendredi 11 avril 2008

Susukeda koyomi - Sooty calendar (four poems translated in English)

Sooty calendar (Susukeda koyomi)

The day my sister is gone, married,
The fruits of eleagnus were so red.
And the day mommy’s gone, dead,
They say a wet snow was falling.
The day daddy’s gone, dead,
The ice on the roof was thawing.
And the night I left home, for good,
There were fireworks of the village fair above me.

Eleagnus




Poor harvest (Kegazu)

This cold rain that could soon turn into snow, and this thin ear of rice.
Yet I must bang an oil can to scare off annoying sparrows.
It seems the sea is agitated, and a flock of seagulls come screeching.
Absent-minded daddy does nothing but reading the letters from his daughter who left home to work at a cotton mill,
And mommy is trying to cook the pieces of potatoes she picked up in the fields, but the fire won’t burn and it only smolders,
There’re no more matches left.
The smoke fulfills the house and baby’s yelling, this will be another bullshit evening.



Seagulls (Gome)

Look at the agitated sea,
They say the catch of fish isn’t good.
Where did mommy go?
Baby’s crying in the living room.
Why not put on the lamp?



Stone (Ishiko)

Twisted minded
A stone that keeps silent, even if it’s stepped on.

If I kept silent, could I be a stone?

Life in the drain that would favor worms.

Isn’t there anyone who’d toss me up into the sky above?

jeudi 10 avril 2008

Fugi - Yoage - Marumero (English translation)

Snowstorm

Children,
Go to bed in a hurry.

Listen!
It's a howl of the white wolf
Running around here.
From the corner of the attic
Dead granny and grandpa are looking at you.

Children,
Go to bed in a hurry.



Dawn

It must be the noise mommy makes by pissing, standing out there.

Daddy came back out of the fog
With fish scales all over his body.

It's a big catch!



Quince – Dream of Fudji in the moment of her death

I was following a narrow path through withered grasses to find a quince fallen in the mud. My dead cousin was there, eating a rice ball. I couldn't pick up the quince however hard I tried......

Ah! It must be also snowing in my country now.

mercredi 9 avril 2008

Village without sun - Flag against the wind (two poems translated in English)

Village without sun - At the village of Horodzuki, peninsula of Tsugaru

Has the sun ever shone
On this village?

Foundations of the house are all eaten away by worms
It is pushed from behind by the high overwhelming mountain, as if it is shoved into the sea.
Look at that!
The mountain of Matsumae under the sun.
Has the beautiful sunlight
Illuminated our village even once?
Everyone smells poverty.
Their body smells like fish.
The young guys ran away off this place.
Only grannies and grandpas with hair like seawead abound on here.
Ah! Our sons like dolphins leaping out to the sea
Where did they go?
All that is thrown on the roadside is the sea-shells of yester years.
Even if fish-bones were rotten, would they grow into a tree?
Morning and day, only the fog stagnate
And at night, the dead weap out at sea...



Flag against the wind

Flag fluttering at the top of the pole,
It's time I leave the city where I was born.
The wind melting snow away is cold to my years
And the bare branches of willows are shivering on the shore.
Ah! There's not a shadow of somebody to see me off
And a temple roof gleams in the distance.
Ah! The city where I was born!
It's a cradle that now is too narrow for me.
Look at the umpleasant face of this city.
It sniggers like a stepmother.
Ah! I'd like to throw everything away but,
Fluttering flag!
I've an unspeakable regret
Which would cut my finger.

The hooter blowed.
It's the end of everything.
The bow turned to show his stern to the city where I was born.
Once offshore, wind blows strong.
Ah! fluttering flag,
Be torn away and flung
Upon the crying sea!

mardi 8 avril 2008

Une lettre de Takagi Kyôzô (28 septembre 1939)

Ces jours-ci, je ne fais que des rêves bizarres, et je n'arrive plus à m'endormir. Je suis encore collégien, et le professeur des langues étrangères est le philosophe Alain. Il faut que je le dise à Ichinohé, etc. C'est un rêve vraiment frivole.
J'ai lu Paul Bourget et Stendhal d'Alain, et je suis en train de lire La Chartreuse de Parme de Stendhal.
J'ai été embêté de ce que mes enfants tombaient malades l'un après l'autre cet été. Les prix ont tellement augmenté ces jours-ci, je me sens mal à l'aise comme si on m'étouffait. L'alerte aérienne a été levée, et du moins la ville s'éclaire-t-elle. Et c'était la pleine lune hier soir, j'ai étendu une natte de paille dans le jardin, et j'ai bu un coup. La lune était très belle pour une fois.

C'est une lettre que le poète a écrit de la Mandchourie à un ami Ichinohé Kenzô qui restait à Hirosaki. Bon témoignage qui montre que c'était un amateur de la littérature française.