English translation of the prose
AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
AI-assisted English translation. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Originally published:
This material was published on the Japanese website. Dates and notices in the text reflect the original publication.
This is a prose translation. Nine submitted tanka and the additional classical tanka remain in Japanese.
Romantic Poetry Forum: Autumn, November 2022
Recorded November 19, 2022
Record and commentary: 河内裕二, Japan Romanticism Society
The war that began with Russia's invasion of Ukraine shows no sign of ending even now, about nine months later. A few days ago, a missile finally struck a village in neighboring Poland, causing deaths. Had it been regarded as an attack on a NATO member, collective self-defense might have been invoked, leading to a grave situation. In the end, it was judged to involve the Ukrainian military intercepting a Russian missile, and escalation was avoided. How long will such tension continue? I hope the war ends as soon as possible.
The meeting took place on November 19 from 1:30 p.m. at the Miura Working Citizens' Center. Those attending were the following eight people and 河内裕二: 三宅尚道, president of the Miura Tanka Society; 加藤由良子, 嘉山光枝, 嶋田弘子, 清水和子 and 羽床員子; and 濱野成秋, president of the Japan Romanticism Society, and 岩間滿美子.
娘ではなく孫よりたまに電話くる
用はないけど「安否確認」 光枝
The author is 嘉山光枝. As the poem describes, when there is an earthquake or thunder, it is her grandchild rather than her daughter who worries and calls. The grandchild's kindness in caring about a grandmother comes through. Perhaps precisely because they live apart, and because their ages are far apart, their hearts can be closer. It is a heartwarming poem.
まなかいににじ色号より見る生家
幼い頃の私が居そう 由良子
A poem by 加藤由良子. Last month, as part of the Misaki Hakushū Festival, a “Hakushū Literary Course by Sea” took participants by boat from Misaki Harbor to places associated with 北原白秋. 加藤 took part. Her childhood home was by the sea, and she lived looking at the sea every day, but this was her first time seeing the home from the water. When its familiar entrance came into view, she says, she had the illusion that her childhood self might emerge. The house filled with memories must now be part of that younger self. The place where one was born and raised is special to everyone. Even if readers do not recognize 「にじ色号」 as a boat's name, or interpret the view as one from the sea, the poem comes alive when they imagine their own childhood homes.
二つ三つとヨット数える日曜日
老いの心も何か弾みて 和子
The author is 清水和子. On Sundays, yachts carrying people enjoying their day off pass across the sea visible from her home. She no longer works, and Sunday is no different from other days, yet seeing the yachts lifts her spirits. Their numbers had been low throughout the pandemic, but restrictions have now eased a little and she is glad to see more. Counting them as 「二つ三つ」 rather than using specialized boat counters such as 「一艘二艘」 or 「一艇二艇」 conveys relaxation, freed even briefly from the pandemic's tension. It suggests a peaceful day ahead.
父母よ千代もと祈る心もて
未だ帰らぬ吾身責め病む 成秋
The author is President 濱野成秋. The poem expresses his feelings about having moved to Tokyo for university and remaining there without returning to live in his hometown. Even when the years spent away outnumber those at home, the heart remains somewhere there. All the more if one's parents are there: how wonderful it would be to live together again. If that cannot happen, one wants them to live forever. A poem expressing the same feeling appears in 『古今和歌集』 and in the “Unavoidable Parting” section of 『伊勢物語』.
世の中にさらぬ別れのなくもがな
千代もといのる人の子のため 業平
じいさまの鼻歌流るる施術室
我目を閉じて共に歌わん 弘子
A poem by 嶋田弘子. It describes something she actually experienced while attending a bone-setting clinic after straining her back. During treatment the clinic plays music patients like. When a certain older man comes, old songs such as 「赤城の子守唄」 are always played. A curtain hides him from view, but his humming can be heard. 嶋田 can sing the songs too because her father used to sing them often, and she learned them. The man beyond the curtain overlaps with her father. Perhaps he is of the same generation. She says she imagined where he lived and what his daily life was like.
The work shows how songs connect human hearts. The wording 「じいさまの鼻歌」 is excellent; this single phrase determines the poem's flavor.
武士の聖地となりし衣の城
勝鬨の声空に響かむ 滿美子
The author is 岩間滿美子. 「衣の城」 means Kinugasa Castle. In reality it fell in defeat, and no victory cry rose. Yet in the heart of its lord 義明, who let his clan escape and remained alone to be killed, the cry of victory surely rang out. Or perhaps, standing at the ruins where the spirit of Miura resides, 岩間 hears that cry. In either case, Kinugasa Castle and 義明's death as recounted in 『吾妻鏡』 are an eternal pride of the Miura clan.
The poem has a somewhat visionary atmosphere and conveys the romance of history. The balance of its words is as beautiful as a fine sculpture.
一分間の壁立ち三年継続し
狭窄症の再発の無し 員子
The author is 羽床員子. During a hospitalization of about two months for stenosis, she began standing against a wall as a form of rehabilitation and continues even now after recovering. Recently, thinking it might exercise her mind, she has counted the minute in English, “one, two.” Health comes first. Everyone knows that maintaining it requires daily effort, but actually doing so is difficult. The confident closing phrase 「再発の無し」 will make readers feel that they too ought to do something.
徒し世によせる嘆きは絶えねども
堪えて待ちたし夜が明けるのを 裕二
My own work. A tragic accident occurred a little while ago. On Halloween, reached just as restrictions against coronavirus were finally beginning to ease around the world, tightly packed young people in an entertainment district in South Korea fell and were crushed to death. There were 156 victims. They had simply come to enjoy Halloween. Seeing so many young people with futures die at once makes one feel how fleeting this world is. Yet we must go on living without abandoning hope. I gave the work a waka atmosphere through the pivot-word pairs 「世」 and 「夜」, and 「絶え」 and 「堪え」.
暑き日々終はりていきなり真冬なり
今年の秋刀魚まだ食べてない
The author is 三宅尚道. A humorous poem. One cannot help wondering why he has not eaten any yet. Pacific saury seem scarce lately; is climate change, as suggested by the opening, having an effect? Has the cheap, delicious fish of ordinary people already become a thing of the past? Autumn means saury. If it were matsutake mushrooms instead, the poem would lose its familiarity.
After the meeting, we moved to Miura Citizens' Hall to see the Miura City Cultural Exhibition, an event within the city's cultural festival. Many works were on display: tanka including our own, haiku, calligraphy, paintings and photographs. The strength with which each author's feelings came through was probably evidence of the seriousness with which each had faced the work. Some were astonishingly accomplished. It was a stimulating and fulfilling time, though brief.
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.