Before I knew it, it had been 14 years since my father died. My father was probably much younger than I am now when he wrote these poems.
“Mirai” Anthology of Deceased Tanka Poets (9)
Selections by Minoru Komeiji
Isao Akimura died on July 4, 1990, at the age of fifty-seven. He succeeded Yasushi Azuma as writer of “Mirai Techō,” producing intelligent, polished prose. To a country person like me, he seemed far removed. He later edited “Kawa” with Yasushi Azuma.
The evening sky clears, chill as though moisture rises
from trees that can draw close togetherMy temples numb, I finish work and head home—
the pool smells fresh in the nightA cat, drawn close by the smell of my blood:
while I eat, I drive it away time and againTwo green lily bulbs, breathing on my upturned palms—
for a while, longing ceases, as if by wonderIn the shade of sturdy overlapping leaves,
each evening I crush the insects boring into figsIn a wood felled while still winter-bare,
afternoon rain falls, freezing as it fallsAt a station where a branch line forks again, a friend leaves;
the train travels long along the coastIn words that pride themselves on poverty, I grow confused;
I shall endure even that basenessI have handled what belongs only to one person, alone;
only to that extent may I hold prideSomehow, what had drawn my heart
now feels hateful, yet fact is factThe matter of the two thousand books I burned under watch—
they say it stands revealed as flameA collection of papers written on the run under a hidden name,
leaving one behind, the professor departedThe boy who rose from his desk without a word—
now on the roof he calls to pigeonsNot knowing the art of scolding, I have restrained my heart;
they say my expression is so darkOn the Russian Pravda, unknown to me,
he fixed his mind through those days of illness1992 “Mirai,” March issue
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