About this work
Tanka draw on everyday encounters, an abandoned watch, family inheritance and mortality, followed by an example of writing a response to an earlier poem. This English version is an editorial translation for access; the Japanese text remains available alongside it for comparison.
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日本語原文 Japanese original
己こそと思へば何やら滑稽に走る
他人はいさ吾は勝手と言ひ聞かせ
宵の飯碗たひらげにける 成秋
暗い食堂に無心なる早乙女に出逢ひて
蒼白きやわ肌女らし立ち居たる
汁椀の子目許罪なし 成秋
神保町の交差点にてふと梶井基次郎を思い出し
丸善に檸檬置きたる心地して
青信号をためらひ渉る 成秋
死出の日は子糠雨か
来る生命明日にも来る筈この命
希ひても子糠雨ふる 成秋
古ウォッチ汚れ擦れて海女の腕
海底おもひて朽ちるを待つや 成秋
遺言状を書く
遺す子に分け与へむと書く言葉
など僅かなれ物も心も 成秋
草深い葉山町一色に住まいて
一色の青葉茂れる子ら知らず
行く末花実も朽ち木の親も 成秋
五百年先にどうなっているか思へばどれもいと哀し
五百年も雨晴れ雪代変わりなく
我が子も孫もみな骨となり 成秋
時よどこまで行けども解脱をさせぬ気か
幽谷を出でて幾年かはる世の
遷りし喬木幽谷に似て 成秋
前回参考とした与謝野晶子の、
ひとまおきてをりをりもれし君がいき
その夜しら梅だくと夢みし
と歌はれたなら、即座に、こんな戯言の反歌を作れば如何？
濃密の帳いつまでそと蹴らぬ
かいな惜しむや幾年ぞ過ぐ 成秋
（No.1929は以上）
English translation 英訳
AI-assisted English translation. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Thinking I am the one, somehow I feel absurd.
Others say what they like, but I do as I please.
At the evening meal, the bowl is emptied.
Meeting a young girl with no mind, in a dark cafeteria.
Her pale, delicate skin stands out.
The soup bowl's small eye—no guilt.
At the Jinbocho intersection, I suddenly think of Motojiro Kajii.
Feeling as if I could place a lemon there.
Pausing at the green light, I cross over.
On the day of death, will it be the rain of young rice?
Coming life, tomorrow's life—this life will come again.
Even a wish, a hope, will be the rain of young rice.
At the site of the mermaid's home, I find an old wristwatch.
The old watch, worn and scratched, on the mermaid's wrist.
Waiting to decay in the depths of the sea.
Writing a will.
The words I write to leave for my child.
Even a small thing, even the heart itself.
Living in Hayama Town, where the grass is deep.
The single color of blue leaves grows, but the children know not.
The future, the blossoms, the decayed wood of the parent.
Thinking of what will be five hundred years from now, how sad it is.
Even five hundred years, the rain, the clear sky, the snow—nothing changes.
My child, my grandson, all will become bones.
Time, where will you go, yet not grant me release?
Emerging from the deep valley, how long will this world last?
The migrating pine tree, like the deep valley.
(Reference) The practice of tanka is to compose a counter-song with a calm mind to any song.
As previously referenced, with Takiko Yosano's song:
"When I saw the one who had the light of the moon,
That night, I dreamed of plum blossoms."
If that song were sung, then immediately, could we make a counter-song like this?
"The dense curtain of intimacy—how long will you not kick it out?
How sad it is, how many years have passed."
(No. 1929 is above)
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.