Posts Tagged ‘ translation ’

Today’s Haiku (April 10, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

 

面倒な奴で結構磯巾着  津野利行

mendô na yatsu de kekkô isoginchaku

no problem

to be called nuisance

sea anemone

Toshiyuki Tsuno
translation by Fay Aoyagi

Source: Today’s Haiku (April 10, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

“Bird” by Shin Dal-Ja – Left/Write Lit

For you,
I was a bird.

Unable to speak,
only cry.
A pitiful bird
with no one to understand.

And each day,
to make my wings ache
I flew to all the places
you traveled.

And at night,
I was the bird
sadly singing
outside your room.

 

나는 당신에게
한마리 새였었다

말은 못하고
울기만 하는
아무도 몰라주는
구슬픈 새였었다

날이 날마다
날개가 아프도록
당신 가는 곳만
날아다니다

밤에
당신 방에 불이 꺼지면
슬피슬피
울어대는 한마리 새였었다.

 

Shin Dal-Ja (image source)

Source: “Bird” by Shin Dal-Ja – Left/Write Lit

“Fading Flesh” by Kim So-Yeon – Left/Write Lit

Monday,
you left to go shopping.
You bought thinly sliced jellyfish, then washed it.
On the veranda, the green onions have bloomed
and round snails rest on their blossoms.

Tuesday,
no matter how hard you tried,
you couldn’t wake me
in my
circle silhouette,
so approaching quietly,
you come lie down again.

Wednesday,
you took the train,
pressing your forehead lightly to the rattling
to better see the scenery rushing by.

On the rooftop, I set out a chair.
I closed my eyes and raised my ears high like a flag
and heard somewhere the faint call of a train.

Thursday,
when love was called by name, we weren’t there.
We had become wild animals each other.
We had become herbivores to each other.
I shook with the fear of it.
Between your shaking and mine,
crimson blood flowed
while we lightly touched the topic of our old conversation
like a scab.

Friday,
while I’m out of the house, you
die by your own strength and are continually reborn.
Flowers, too, bloomed and continually faded.
You saw the footprints of the morning star —
endless clusters, traces
of people gone by.

The smell of food, of flowers, of laundry
thick and overflowing.
The home male and female bluebirds return to must be the same,
you said, while folding the laundry.

Saturday,
you called an obvious mistake like us, love. Turning where I stood, I nodded and called it blasphemy,
the vulnerability of all the bad things in life when their usefulness is gone.
Your tenderness swirls in my ear and spreads throughout my body, and
in my diary I write, “I want to be eaten away. In being worn away, there will be no pain — no nothing.”
Every time I unfold my diary on the desk, my life’s sins
pour out

and

pile

up

in

heaps.

Sunday,
we fold paper airplanes from the letters we’ve sent and make them fly.
With wings having no more room for writing, they scatter and fall like the season’s first snow.

Monday again,
you leave to go shopping
and might not return.
Standing expectantly outside the entrance,
I cover my mouth and cry for a few moments. You could still come back.
Flowers still bloom
and snails form trails from my tears
on the surface of the carrot’s prickly flowers,
taking one steady step and then another.
Like a refrigerator, I am still standing,
my contents growing clear, and cool…
and still waiting.

 

Source: “Fading Flesh” by Kim So-Yeon – Left/Write Lit

Haiku – YouTube

First Known When Lost: A Dream Beneath A Summer Moon

an octopus pot —
inside, a short-lived dream
under a summer moon.

Basho (translated by Makoto Ueda), in Makoto Ueda, Basho and His Interpreters: Selected Hokku with Commentary (Stanford University Press 1991), page 201.

Source: First Known When Lost: A Dream Beneath A Summer Moon

First Known When Lost: Blue

A flower unknown
To bird and butterfly, —
The sky of autumn.

Basho (translated by R. H. Blyth), in R. H. Blyth, Haiku, Volume 4: Autumn-Winter (Hokuseido Press 1952), page xxxii.

Source: First Known When Lost: Blue

Alice Iris Red Horse: Selected Poems by Yoshimasu Gozo | Quarterly Conversation

 

 

 

Source: Alice Iris Red Horse: Selected Poems by Yoshimasu Gozo | Quarterly Conversation