Thursday Nov 23

HachikaiMimi Hachikai Mimi was born in 1974, in Kanagawa Prefecture of Japan. She received a Master’s degree in Ancient Japanese literature from Waseda University. Her poetry won several of Japan’s national literary honors, including the Nakahara Chuya Prize for her debut collection. She has also published works of fiction, essays, children’s stories and translation.
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MihoNonaka Miho Nonaka is a bilingual poet who has taught English and Creative Writing courses at Eastern Illinois University and Wheaton College. Her poetry and nonfiction have appeared in The Iowa Review, Ploughshares, Tin House, Cimarron Review, American Letters & Commentary, among others. She received a Pushcart Prize nomination for poetry in 2007.
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蝸  牛
 
ででむしの子どもたちすきとおった箱をのせ
固まらないやわらかなその箱をのせ
うしろへは引かない
なにかあれば
潰れる
いなくてもいいけれど
めくれば いつも 地に近くいる
箱に入るものは からだだけ
 
ほかのだれにも 用のないもの
(たべるひとを除いては)
ででむし そのためにいつでも
屈むわたしは
植え込み覗いて頬を切る
血をにじませ ででむし探す
その渦巻きに棲んでる いまも
棲んでる
 
ででむし朽ちても殻だけ遺す
それは地面に落ちている
焚火の途中 拾って投げる
縞に火がつき
縞以外にも火がつき
 
くすぶる諍いはうしろで窓割り
新たな穴から血 飛んで 墜落
音からしておかしい割れてない
買い換えたようだ
(その扱いにも鈍い素材に)
女の転居を願いはしても
ゆく先々で ふたたび きっと
 
ででむしの子どもたちすきとおった箱のせて
やわく軽くしかも詰まったその箱のせて
追えないほどに 散らばり果てて
なにかあれば まっすぐ
潰れる
いてほしいと 石をめくればいつもいる
 
(いない殻はしずまりかえった水を貯め)
釜にむかう柄杓(ひしゃく) その速度で万事うごく
隅にあつめ すきなみずを暁に垂らせば
波紋にのせ ひろがる ででむしの思い
その渦巻に三十年ほど棲んでる
 
 
 
Snail
 
Snail children carry clear boxes,
Still unset, soft boxes on their backs
Without retreating, at the risk
Of getting crushed any moment.
Unsought for, yet you’d find them
Underneath whatever you
Turn over on the ground.
What fits their box is only their
Body, no use to anybody else
(Except for those who fancy their meat)
I cut my cheek on the shrub each time
I lean over, looking for snails
Who have occupied and will
Always live in their spiral.
 
When dried up, snails leave only
their shells on the ground.
I pick and toss these into the fire
I am making:
their stripes catch on fire,
then the rest starts burning, too.
A bickering smolders behind me,
the window breaks again and out flies
a plate, rattling on the ground—
I am surprised it sounds unbroken;
a switch to the new brand?
(that survives insensitive treatment)
Even if the woman moves out,
it will be the same, anywhere she goes
 
Snail children carry clear boxes,
Supple, light, and fully packed boxes
Scattered far and wide, impossible to
Drive out. Any mishap will
Crush them flat.
They are everywhere;
Whenever you want, flip a stone.
(Absent shells hold up silent water)
Everything moves at the same pace
As a ladle towards a cauldron.
Gather them in the corner and pour
The liquid of your choice at dawn:
What will unfold in widening rings
Is the snails’ emotion.
I have lived in their spiral for thirty years.
 
 
 
 
 
銀  河
 
 
あなたを消すことが不可能なら俺が消えたい
そんなこといわれたって困るよ
あたしは消えないしあなたも消えない
いまはまだ
放っておいたって消えるよ
そのうちにね
ためらえば流れ去る
山の石が緑の息をしている
やりなおしはきかないが
やりなおすようなことなどなにもない
この世には
 
 
Galaxy
 
“If it’s impossible to erase you, I’d rather
blot myself out.”
I don’t know how to answer this:
it won’t make you nor me
disappear for the time being.
With or without your effort,
we’ll be all gone someday.
While you hesitate, things will flow away;
in the mountains, stones will continue
breathing green.
You can’t start over again.
To begin with, there isn’t
a thing you’d rather revise
in this life.
 
 
 
 
 
根の国
 
 
帰っていく背の真ん中に
ひとすじ
夜道がひらける
奥へ奥への気配はあるけど
すぐに曲がって
先はすこしも 見えません
 
道の左右に 奪われるほどの太い幹
 
次 次 次と ならんでる
月影ない闇夜には この闇夜には
空よりも 繁みのほうが 一段と
暗い
そのくらさに よどみなく煽られ
いらないものを いそいで捨てる
無言で放る
彼女に 倣って
 
縒り合わされた昼と夜の合間
立ち しゃがみ 座り 黙り
その身のふところ深くに輪を重ね
行ったことはないけれど その道
人気(ひとけ)ないことだけ 知っている
 
あるいは 人でないものは どうだか
 
灯かりもないのに
 
そう案じたとき ぱっと点いた
口にせず案じたとき ぱっと点いた
なんの灯だか わかりません
根方の木肌は手前から
予告なく浮かされて
入り口と
あらすじが
見えた
 
あ みえたね いま みえた
 
 
一瞬の暗示が足もとの深くを照らす
充分なのだ それだけで あなたには
あとは 耳と勘にまかせて 行く
漲りつづける幹と幹の
あいだについた道
その奥へ
奥底へ
 
 
食むのも啼くのも殺すのも交わるのも
しばらくやめて
うっとり
鎮まり
棲んでいるものたちみな休息する時刻
ひとりで行く と彼女は いうけれど
 
止めたりしません
この地熱とうに退いて冷たくはない
指が離れようとするけれど
かなしくはない
そこが彼女の入り口と
知っているからです
わたしはわたしで別の
暗がりを辿ると
知っているからです
 
帰っていく背の真ん中にひとすじ
夜道がひらける
奥底の気配に言葉は眠り
うしろすがたを送る
 
ここにいて
見送る
 
 
 
The Nether Land
 
In the middle of her back opens
a streak of night,
a road that extends deeper,
but its abrupt turn cuts off
further view.
 
On both sides of the road, one by one
appear tree trunks of awful thickness.
A moonless night like tonight
turns the thicket darker
than the sky, and the dark
has thoroughly charmed me into
throwing away unnecessary items
in haste and in silence,
following her example.
 
In-between where night and day
are twisted together,
standing, squatting, sitting
and falling silent,
the deep center of my body
has grown rings in layers.
I’ve never been on that road;
I only know it’s deserted by humans,
but what of those that aren’t?
 
There isn’t even a street lamp
 
Light flashed the very moment
the thought crossed my mind.
I have no idea what type of light this is;
without warning, the bark near the root
became visible before me
so that I would see
the entrance to
and synopsis of
our story.
 
There, we saw it just now
 
A momentary reminder lit up our feet,
enough for you to start on your way
with your ears and intuition
as your only guide—the road
between the breathing trunks,
leading deep into the dark and still
deeper to the hidden interior
 
Stop eating, crying, killing, and mating
for a while, and stay
vacant
and still.
At the hour when all living things rest,
when she says she’ll go by herself,
I won’t stop her.
Even though heat has retreated from the earth,
I don’t feel cold.
Even as our fingers let go of each other,
I am not sad
knowing this is her entry
and that I, too, will journey
another darkness one day
on my own.
 
In the middle of her leaving back opens
a night road.
At the sign of reaching the deepest,
words have fallen asleep,
and I keep my eyes on her back.
 
I stay on this side
to see her off.