About this work
A collection moves between seasonal dust, railway platforms, childhood scenes and literary memory, ending with reflections on time and attachment to life. This English version is an editorial translation for access; the Japanese text remains available alongside it for comparison.
Parallel reading
日本語と英語で読む
Read the Japanese original and its English translation together. On smaller screens, each language follows in sequence.
日本語原文 Japanese original
濱野成秋
春の砂塵に
砂あはれ雨粒ともに指の腹
黄なるを厭はめ同胞の身で
暗春の嵐に戸惑ひて
春草の俄かに降りくる天土の
恵み湯猛き振りぞおかしき
北鎌倉駅にて小津安二郎監督を偲びて
北鎌のホーム伸び来てこの辺り
小津のカメラを受けゐて生くる
下宿を探す上野は驟雨だった
夥し架線鉄路に陸橋の
響ける古家に侘びて眠らむ
當麻池群れなす土筆粉吹きぬ
幼きわが手の甲は青みて
かぼちゃの花を見ると想い出す
丈六の畑に咲ける南京の
黄なる花びら眺めをる稚児
冷えるも構わず石に腰掛けるおさな日
縁側の靴脱ぎ石に腰掛けし
幼き吾は唯母を待つ
共に戦ひし社屋の前にて
狂へるか姿かたちを変へたるを
出版社と呼ぶぞ哀しき
自転車と幼子を見るたび想い出す
自転車の荷台にしつらへし子の座椅子
共に倒れて頭を打たせり
人の子も己も果ててぞ象(かたち)なす
いま永らへるは尽きるに等し 成秋
この世に弱き肉體を伴って現れた身なれば、いつ壊れるか案じて育つ。
そんな子供は長じて短歌も短編も書くくせに、みな愛おしくて仕方がない。
だから無為に時を過ごすを潔しとしないが、さりとて過ぎ行く一秒一秒を
大事にしているかというと、さにあらず。
自分はまだ遺言状を書き上げていない。
辞世の歌を考えたこともない。
まだまだ先まで生くるを考え俗臭を解脱するに未だ充足感にない。
開き直っている自分が情けない。
が、この心境、誰しも同じでは？
（No.1930は以上）
English translation 英訳
AI-assisted English translation. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Spring sand dust
Sand, pitiful raindrops, together with the palm of my hand
Yellow, I loathe it, and with a body of fellow beings
Confused by the dark spring storm
Spring grass suddenly falls as heavenly rain, earth's
Blessed rain, fierce and warm, how pitiful
At the North Kamakura Station, remembering Yasujirō Ozu, the director
North Kamakura platform stretches out, this vicinity
Receiving Ozu's camera, giving birth to
Looking for a lodgings in Ueno, it rained heavily
Massive, vast, overhead lines, railway tracks, the bridge
Resonating old houses, I feel melancholy and sleep
The embankment where I gathered the horsetail shoots is full of sunshine
At the Taima Pond, the crowd of horsetail shoots makers, the powder blowing
My young hand is blue
Seeing the pumpkin flower, I remember
In the six-foot field, the yellow petals of the Nanking plant
Looking at the child's view
The small child sits on the stone without caring for the cold
Removing shoes by the veranda, sitting on the stone
My young self only waited for my mother
Before the building where we fought together
How did it change its form, going mad
They call it a publisher, how sad
Every time I see a bicycle and a child, I remember
The child's seat on the bicycle's rack
Together we fell, and hit our heads
(Reference)
A child, oneself, both end and take shape
Now, what is lasting is equal to what is ending, says Seishu Hamano
Since I have appeared in this world with a weak body, I worry when it will break
Such a child, growing up, writes tanka and short stories, yet all are precious
Therefore, I do not clean myself by idleness, yet, does that mean I value each passing second?
No, not at all
I have not yet finished writing my will
I have never thought of a farewell song
I have not yet reached the point where I can free myself from the vulgar, and feel fulfilled
I am being honest, and it is pitiful
But, this state of mind, is it not the same for everyone?
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.