English translation of the prose
AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.
Japan Romanticism Poetry Circle — Spring, April
April 20, 2024
Record and commentary: 河内裕二, Japan Romanticism Academia
A return of cold weather in late March this year delayed the cherry blossoms beyond their usual time. In Japan we associate entrance ceremonies with cherry blossom, but flowering has tended to come earlier in recent years, perhaps because of global warming, and for several years we had not welcomed an entrance ceremony beneath trees in full bloom. Indeed, an April start to the school year is found almost only in Japan; it was adopted to match the fiscal year, which begins in April. Yet nothing suits the atmosphere of celebration at entering school better than cherry trees in full bloom. This year, for the first time in a while, the ceremony matched that familiar image, and I felt glad. If warming continues and the cherry blossoms come still earlier, perhaps they will eventually become flowers that celebrate graduation.
The poetry meeting was held at the Miura Workers' Civic Center from 1:30 a.m. on April 20. Those attending were the seven members 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, 羽床員子; and Seishu Hamano, president of Japan Romanticism Academia, together with 河内裕二.
Translator's note: “a.m.” follows 午前 in the source; the meeting time has not been silently changed.
「良くぞケッパッタ！」の声援とんで
六十才差の尊富士まぶし 由良子
The author is 加藤由良子. She could not take her eyes off Takerufuji at the Spring Grand Sumo Tournament, where he became the first wrestler in 110 years to win the championship on his debut in the top division. She watched every day without fail, even recording the bouts when she could not see them live. In the dialect of Aomori, where Takerufuji comes from, “you did your best” is apparently expressed as keppatta. On the final day, an especially loud shout of “Well done—you really gave it your all!” rang out in the arena. To the author, the achievements of a wrestler younger even than her grandchildren were dazzling. Takerufuji is a fine ring name, too. I look forward to the next tournament.
ピカピカの一年生等帰り道
話しに夢中歩み進まぬ 光枝
The author is 嘉山光枝. The scene rises before one's eyes. “Shiny new first-graders” was, I believe, also an advertising phrase for a magazine aimed at first-year elementary school pupils, but few expressions capture children just beginning school so well. As new pupils, they may feel tense at school. On the way home they are freed of that tension, chatting happily with close friends as they return. It is a scene familiar across the generations. Recently, however, declining birthrates have reduced the number of children and, in many areas, the number of classes. Perhaps all the new first-graders already know one another well. It is an enjoyable poem even just to wonder what they might be talking about.
電車来て乗る私にあたたかき
手を差しくれし忘る日はなし 和子
A poem by 清水和子. Once, when she was boarding a train, someone who had been standing ahead of her turned around and offered a hand. She writes that she cannot forget its warmth. The gap and difference in height between train and platform make older passengers apprehensive about boarding. A small consideration such as lending a hand makes one feel that one, too, matters. Perhaps giving up seats to older people or extending a hand to someone in difficulty is no longer taken for granted. Few people on trains and buses look around them. Most peer into their smartphone screens, absorbed in a “world of their own.” It is sad to feel that we are becoming a society in which human kindness is harder to experience.
誰が我を分かろうか我にしか
分からぬこの我教えて我よ 弘子
The author is 嶋田弘子. The word “I” or “self” is repeated, giving the poem an almost uncanny intensity. She asks herself what she is, but no answer can be found; nevertheless, she cannot help asking. Reading this poem, I thought of Descartes's cogito ergo sum: “I think, therefore I am.” Even if I doubt everything, I cannot doubt the existence of the I that is doubting. Thus the very act of asking what the self is demonstrates that the self exists. Did the author compose with Descartes in mind? 三宅 said that it brought to mind the Buddha's declaration, “Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am honored.”
利休梅小道の庭に咲き満ちて
白無垢姿の花嫁のごと 員子
The author is 羽床員子. A flowering tree in an acquaintance's garden was so beautiful that she asked what kind of plum it was and learned its name was rikyūbai. Unlike cherry blossom, plum blossom has something endearing about it. I can readily understand her comparison of the white flowers to a bride in an all-white wedding kimono.
桜散りて花見を想う常日頃
時の罪人厭ひて久し 成秋
A work by President Seishu Hamano. By the time he thinks of viewing the cherry blossoms, they have already fallen. Whatever he tries to do, time races ahead; the day ends with nothing accomplished. It will never wait for us. The author has long felt that time is a hateful sinner. “The sinner of time” is a distinctive expression, yet everyone feels that time passes quickly, making this a poem with which we can strongly sympathize.
身命は何故さよう儚きや
思ひ嘆けば月は傾き 裕二
My own work. 身命 is read shinmyō or shinmei and literally means “body and life.” We do not know when a human life will end. Hearing of someone who has died young, I feel sorrow for them and am also forced to recognize how meaningless it is to assume that I myself am still safe. I might die of a sudden illness; even if I take care of my health, an accident might take my life. If I go to sleep today, perhaps I will never wake again. I can no longer take the leisurely view that I too will die someday. What would happen if I died tomorrow? As I was thinking about such things, dawn came.
四月にてはや夏日なり眠られず
猫の如くに廊下に眠る 尚道
A poem by 三宅尚道. Dogs and cats have no sweat glands that secrete sweat, so they must indeed be vulnerable to heat. Imagining the author sleeping in the corridor like a cat makes me laugh. It would be still more amusing if the cat came and slept where its owner was lying. It is only April. I worry about what he will do when summer comes and it becomes hotter still.
加藤's poem this time includes a person's name, albeit a sumo ring name. I somehow hesitate to put the name of a living person into a work, as distinct from a historical or legendary figure. Yet her poem showed me that even a specific name can make a poem that honors its subject and stirs the imagination. I would like to try poems containing personal names myself.
Original wording, author credits, notes and source materials are preserved there.