The Spring of My Life
Page 8
Aloof and silent
Among blooming flowers
Among hoop-shaped twigs
Among tea flowers
An autumn drizzle—
An easy target:
Another useless man
Another year older
As I bent to kiss
As if from the gods
As it grows colder
As old age arrives
As simple as that—
As the doe nurses
As the great old trees
As the mosquito
Ask tearfully, truly—
Asked his age, the boy
At sunset this fall
At the flowerpot
At the very edge
At the Zen temple
At this lonely grave
At Zenkō Temple
Autumn evening—
Backwards, ass over
Be a good friend and
Be calm, skinny frog!
Beautiful full moon—
Before I arrived
Before this autumn wind
Beginning to rain—
Belly full of rice cake
Bending, stretching out
Between window screens
Beyond good or bad
Blown by gusts of wind,
Blown softly away
Both my baby and
Bow to the image!
Bright autumn moonlight:
Brilliant moon
Buddha beside a field
But look: Deputy
Buzzing noisily
By a neighbor’s light
By the entranceway
Calligraphy on
Calm, indifferent
Chattering, they return
“Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms!”
Chrysanthemum blooms—
Clear icy water
Countless tea houses
Dear evening swallow
Don’t complain: rice cake
Don’t kill that poor fly!
Driven from the fields
Dyers’ white cloth strips
Early this morning
Eluding the hands
Emerging brightly
Entering the gate
Envious even
Even as he sleeps
Even faster than
Even in good light
Even my shadow
Even on foggy
Even prickly shrubs
Even the flies
Even the turtle
Even this magnolia
Even this mountain
Evening cherry
Evening clouds disperse:
Everyone knows the motherless boy;
Fan tucked politely
Fast as it can go—
Flitting here and there
Floating together
Fly into the mist!
Fly, butterfly!
For our rice country
For two yen I bought
For you too, my fleas
Freezing moonlight falls
From among the flowers
From birthing’s washbowl
From high in a tree
From out in dark rain
From that woman
From the Great Buddha’s
From this day forward
From today forward
Frosty autumn nights
Full cherry blossoms—
Full of play, the kitten
Futility
Give me a homeland
Going out to store
Good company
“Good luck begin!
Graciously, the dog
Gratitude for gifts
Happy, the children
He comes without lifting a foot;
He glares back at me
He sits all alone
He’s the overseer
Hearing our voices
Helpless against this
Her every step
Here as in heaven
Here in Shinano
Here long ago
Hey, hey, the toad is dead
High over the dark
His patience expired
His stepmother robbed
Horses pass by, each
How beautiful! these
How comfortable
How far has he gone
How fortunate! I’m not
How joyous and kind!
How well we have slept
Hurry now, my flies!
I accidentally
I am leaving now
I fly my son’s flag
I know everything
I live as I do
I mark passing time
I must be crazy
I search the faces
I thank the doll that serves
I wish she were here
I, too, made of dust—
I’d love to slap that
If you are kindly
If you really must
Ignoring Tora’s
Imprisoned, the fish
In a bitter wind
In a light spring rain
In a warm spring rain
In cherry blossom
In early spring rain
In falling spring mist
In falling spring rain
In falling spring rain
In falling spring rain—
In hazy spring mist
In its final throes
In Kakikazi
In my hermitage
In my hidden house
In night’s blind darkness
In our poor house, the
In soft pampas grass
In the autumn wind
In the beggar’s tin
In the middle of
In the midst of this world
In the old temple
In their bamboo hats
In this mountain village
In this temporal world
It is New Year’s Day
It is not very
It is true even
It must certainly
It was my favorite
It’s regrettable
“I’ve waited for you
Just a bush warbler
Just a few snowflakes
Just being alive!
Just beyond my reach
Just beyond the gate
Just to say the word
Keeping the infant
Lacking a thresher
Laughing, crawling, you’re
“Let’s visit bamboo!
Like a murderer
Like an acrobat
Like an aging harvest
Like misty moonlight
Like the burning
Like the poet Saigyō
Listen, enemies
Lit by a lamp hung
Little bush warbler
Little chrysanthemum
Little scraps of paper
Loneliness already
Lonely Ojizō!
Lured by the branches
Lying here looking
Lying in hammocks
Lying, arms and legs
Memory returns
Mimicking cormorants
Mornings, the farmer
Mosquito larvae
Mother proudly
Mother, I weep
My daughter brushes
My daughter struggles
My dear old village
My father also
My home is quiet
My home is so poor
My little sparrows
My noontime nap
My old village lies
My son has broken
My spring is just this:
My tired legs spread
Naturally
Nearly frostbitten
New Year greeting-time:
No matter how hard
No more than shadow
No quarreling
No sooner received
Not once did I think
Now the rains have gone
Now we are leaving
Nursing the handle
Nursing, mother counts
O autumn winds
O little sparrows!
O moonlit blossoms—
O summer snail
On hands and knees on
On the deer’s tongue, the
On the hottest day
On the street corner
On this beautiful
On this holiday
On this spindly plant
Once snows have melted
One small mosquito
One small mosquito
One surviving pink
Only a few people
Only a memory:
Only just a few
Pain and suffering—
Passing high above
Passing through the gate
Peeking through the fence
People whispering—
People working rice fields
People! Compelled to go
Placing the rice cakes
Playing together
Please say it again
Pouncing, the kitten
Pretending wisdom
Protecting the child
Rice piled everywhere
Searching all this world
Second day, second month—
Secretly saying
Seen in a flash
Sent out to sweep snow
Simply for all this
Sing hosanna! What
Sitting serenely
Smiling serenely
Snowy white dew—and
So ashamed, the child
So many breezes
So many fleabites
So much money made
So small! Perilously
So studiously!
So very gently
Spindly saxifrage
Spring has come again
Stained by his doings
Standing side by side
Stone River’s rushing
Stopping at the gate
Such irritation!
Summer’s first firefly
Summer’s first melon
Suspicious character
Swatting the housefly
Sweaty summer night:
Sweet tea and sweet tears
Take care in the grass—
Tearfully, the child
Teasingly, the big cat
Tell me as you go
That cormorant’s my
That fat toad looks like
That old woodpecker
That sacred night dance:
The beggar remains
The blossoming plum
The blossoming plum!
The boy disciplined
The cherry blossoms
The child claps his hands
The cranes cry in vain
The darkness beneath
The distant mountains
The field worker
The field wren
The firefly departs
The first snow has fallen
The free cormorant
The friendly barker calls—
The gatekeepers burn
The gentle willow
The great daimyō
The hail has fallen—
The high distant cry
“The honorable
The huge firefly
The human father
The little puppy
The maidenflower
The mare’s vigilance:
The meadowlark sings
The moor crow is so
The morning glories
The mosquito flew
The mountain warbler
The mountain water
The nature of man:
The new dragonfly
The oh-so-heavy
The old dog listens
The old prostitute’s
The old wine seller
The old woman
The primrose should grow
The red flower
The servant leaves to bury
“The sewage ditch
The sleeping puppy
The small butterfly
The small shrine stands
The stag leaps the creek
The stepmother cries
The third crescent moon
The turnip farmer
The winter fly
The winter wren
The young brush warbler
The young sparrows
There’s your long shadow!
This ant trail must have
This mountain moonlight
This old cherry tree
This rural village
This slightly bent
This suffering world:
This world of dew
This year on, forever
This year’s hottest day:
Those clouds form grandly
Though only a child
Thus did a stepmother
Thus spring begins: old
Time to purify:
Today and today
Today and today
Today, today took
Trembling helplessly
Truly heaven-sent
Trying to pick up
Two cranes, side by side
Under shady trees
Under such a calm
Under this bright moon
Unwanted, the child
Used for scrubbing wine
Village peasants sing
Wanting to welcome
Warning his children
Weakened by illness
What a perfect night
What you do or don’t
What’s said of snowmen
What’s the lord’s vast wealth
When farmers discuss
When I bowed before
When I finally die
When the evening drum
When the mosquito
When the wild turnip
When year-end beggars
Where does it come from
Where Kannon remains—
Where will you wander
While I was away
While the street-corner
White saxifrage flowers
Whose small hermitage
Wind in bamboo leaves
Wind-strewn blossoms—
Winter hermitage:
With a splish! a splat!
With a stick in hand
With body and soul
With each lightning flash
With just the slightest
With laughter all day
With my folding fan
With spring’s arrival
With such a voice
With this rising bath-mist
With wine cups in hand
Withering red leaves
Without knowing love
“Wolf scat!” Just the words
“You can’t fool me!” cries
You remain with me
You’ve fallen silent
About the Translator and the Artist
SAM HAMILL is the author of more than thirty books of poetry, translations, and essays, including Only Companion: Japanese Poems of Love and Longing, The Erotic Spirit, Destination Zero: Poems 1970–1995, and (with Keiko Matsui Gibson) River of Stars: Selected Poems of Yosano Akiko. He has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Guggenheim Foundation, the Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission, the Lila Wallace–Reader’s Digest Foundation, and the Andrew Mellon Foundation.
KAJI ASO is a widely respected artist whose works are listed in Japan as National Property. He teaches art, art history, and Asian culture at the Kaji Aso Studio and the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
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