Poetry Collection: Shion

Shion

If you belong to a quiet world,
the fireworks of the night sky are shooting stars;
the tiny waves at the water’s edge,
the sea foam, vanish into dreams.
If you belong to a quiet world,
the memory of waves in the seashell
that lives deep within the ear
will remain only within the sound of poetry.
If you belong to a quiet world.

(September fifth, nineteen ninety-eight)

The Way Home

At the bottom of Rashomon memories,
words of farewell from one who leaves.
At the edge of the mountain in the setting sun,
purple clouds trail across the sky.
Looking up at the cold sky of the second month,
so I return home.

(September sixth, nineteen ninety-eight)

Summer Peony

Summer peony,
the scent of grass,
in the green shade
I will place a single bloom.
Thinking of the noble person
of the western land,
I will set it afloat
on the sea of August.
Summer peony,
the white petals,
the color of the flower—
is it your heart?
Summer peony,
evening darkness draws near,
the chorus of cicadas,
I stand alone.

(September sixth, nineteen ninety-eight)

The Old Man

The old man looked down at the river
and said,
“Ah.”
Leaning on a cane with hands
warped like the knotted roots of a tree,
he stood proud and said it.
The river after the typhoon ran very swiftly,
falling away
in white foam.
The old man looks down at the river, always,
and says only,
“Ah.”
From his gray, clouded eyes,
clear water wells up,
then becomes a single stream
and runs down his cheeks.

(October third, nineteen ninety-eight)

Moonlit Night

The first full moon of autumn
shines upon the soil of terraced fields.
The villagers, their harvest finished,
are in the midst of a festival of thanks.
In a corner of the blackly stretching
mud of the rice fields,
in the grass beside the continuing ridge path,
the thin wings of sleeping dragonflies
catch the moonlight
and shine, glittering on and on.
A toad glares with narrowed eyes.

The first full moon of autumn
deepens in the cold air.
On the ridge path bright with dragonflies,
a sharply outlined shadow rises.
Your sleeping face breathes softly;
the moon is smiling.

(October fourth, nineteen ninety-eight)

Autumn Mountain

Fall, scatter, fall, scatter, scatter away,
on an autumn day, leaves, scatter away.
Autumn in the mountain is a festival:
akebi fruit, chestnuts, matsutake mushrooms.
Fall, scatter, fall, scatter, scatter away,
falling in the shafts of sunlight, scatter away.