Hiroshi Kawasaki

花の名だけは知っていて
花そのものは知らない
そんな花があります

愛という字は
よく知っているのですが
そして
愛そのものも
知っているつもりだけど

降るような花の下を行くと
いったい
何を知っているのか
と 急に思います
...

What's that,
so far away -
something running extremely fast,
so far, far
away,
being beaten black and blue,
as if its body has been thrashed
to a pulp,
as if it's making
a faint, faint sound?
Incredibly fast . . .
Is some old friend of mine
having
a terrible time of it?
Is every loathsome memory of mine
running
this way
with unstoppable force?
Or
is a car
overloaded with flowers
being torn apart
and laughing strangely?

Incredibly fast, that . . .
So very far away.
...

Words wish in words
that
they hadn't been born
words.
They wish they'd rather been born
steep leaden walls.
And -
after that
they sigh a single sigh which is not a word.
...

I long for a very skilful midwife,

for everything
to be neatly settled
by a quarrel,

and for a naked horse to walk along this way
from a street corner.

I long for no such thing
as a pension,

and even fires to break out as usual
with a keen-sighted man watching in the watchtower.
"A whale-shark!
Let's get it!"
Sallying forth on their boats,
they find the sea's surface boiling silver all over
and a lot of bonitos
caught.

Men and women
always sweating,
chasing and being chased
with sparkling laughter . . .

with no need to mention
how wonderful that is.
...

I boasted several times
that if I could not make a living by writing
I'd do anything -
even shine shoes.

Now I'm not so sure
whether
I could really do shoe-shining.

A twenty-six year-old fishmonger
was talking on TV
about the time he decided to marry his present wife:

"‘I'd do anything
to give you and our children a comfortable life -
even be a beggar,'
I told her."

Another man there about the same age
had said this:
"‘We'd have a poor, hard life, but
would you go along with me?'
I said,
and she said yes."

Twenty years ago
I would have slapped my knee at what the fishmonger said,
and I would've said,
"That's great!"

Now
what those two men said
dazzles me.

An idea flashes across my mind
which, if my wife heard of it,
would make her keel over.
I may have already done in secret
what, if my daughter had known it,
would send her at me with a shovel.
And I have the surprising idea
that I am more normal now than before.
...

I'd like to meet
the Snow Woman*.

I'd like to draw on that hot skin of hers
a picture of a snow crystal
found nowhere else.

Not about the present day or crimes and so on,
but I'd like to tell a story more secret
and more true.
And I wish to defend it
with my entire being.

When it starts snowing,
my heart or body,
I don't know which,
begins to tremble.
Isn't that because,
though I had met the Snow Woman long ago,
the snow has made me SNOW

I'd like to meet
the Snow Woman.

I'd like to draw on that hot skin of hers
a picture of a snow crystal
found nowhere else.

Not about the present day or crimes and so on,
but I'd like to tell a story more secret
and more true.
And I wish to defend it
with my entire being.

When it starts snowing,
my heart or body,
I don't know which,
begins to tremble.
Isn't that because,
though I had met the Snow Woman long ago,
the snow has made me forget
all about it?
...

This morning
my old lady in her bed
said,
too clearly for delirium,
"Crazy!"
That's all -
only that.

She was about to wake up.

So I knew
straight away -
"Oh, it's
about me."

She is not
insane.

Sorry.
...

A girl is running towards me
In the morning
Light
Her supple hair
Melts into the sunlight
Blinding me

Her hands
Her skirt, her shoes, her body
All
Have melted into the sunlight
Now transparent
Just the girl
Running this way

The sunlight
Moves into the woods in the morning
The girl becomes green
Tree tops whisper to each other
As if they'd heard their mother tongue, one morning,
In a foreign country

The girl goes out to the meadow in the morning
A pair of cream-colored horses are eating dewy grass
"How will the green of the grass
Change inside the bellies of
The cream-colored horses?"
Wonders the girl.

Wondering, the girl comes to an orchard
Apples, in the apple orchard, are about to ripen
Fragrance saturates the air and lingers
Like mist
In a white room
The girl becomes
Imbued with the smell
From when no one knows
From where no one knows
A red color appears
The red skin grows resilient
Apples in the apple orchard
Resist bursting
In the bright light

The girl is
Running on and on

Ice breaks Wind rises
Squirrels awake

The girl
Comes into my room where I am asleep
In the morning light
My mind, like some towel, is dyed various colors
Sometimes stripes
In my dream
The girl and I
Are subtly offset

Am I hearing the sound of water welling up?
Am I seeing how time moves on?

The girl and I
Delicately go
Beyond the dream

The girl slowly fades
Slowly I grow fulfilled
And
Soon

I see
The sun!
...

When day broke
Light quickly flooded into
Every little crevice of the bushes
Dyeing the space
Mountain springs endlessly spouted water
Arrows of the morning sun pierced
The water so transparent that, startled, I saw
Small clouds of sand drift up,
Around the underbelly of a mountain trout
Fanned by its fin
Clouds were not praised
Neither was the sun celebrated
But only the precise bees flew busily about
Covered with bright yellow pollen from an Adonis
In the distance
I could see those already working to reclaim the land
And a dog running around them
There they were breaking clumps of soil, taking no rest
Rocks were being removed
Grass was pulled while it was still green, and thrown at the sky
From time to time
I saw a man pause in his tilling and speak to a woman
The woman would lift her face, and seemed to respond to the man, smiling
I saw her white teeth, deeply white, from a distance
From behind the mounds of hay
Many, many children ran out and away
A sweetfish jumped out of the water, catching the sun
Indifferent to all
Cows drank songs from the river

Only what was glistening under the sun existed
No letters or words existed
Sheep and dandelion leaves were one and the same

Yes, I saw it. Midway down the river,
Under the cool shade of a tree with thick young leaves
I saw a young man, sleeves rolled up, briskly wash a horse
I could see he genuinely loved his horse
Beyond them, I saw the river meander, with unfettered joy,
Into the tall grass beyond
...

Yes, often an olive wants to be a fish,
An almond often wishes to be a bird
I am pretty well accustomed to being like this now
Just a while ago I changed into human form
For a few minutes
My supple soft skin, my bones and the flesh wrapping around them
They all felt eerie to me
But in a while when I revert to being a tree
How fondly I will reminisce
About the human body I have now
My fingers, nails, and joints

How marvelous!
I have bones; I have muscles to pull my bones,
And skin covers all
My blood is coursing on and on
I can move myself, like this, any way I want to
I can point at the sky
I can stroke my hair!

Grasses, leaves, fruit or branches cannot do what I can -
They stretch their branches, turn their leaves
Lazily toward the light,
Yes, really, "lazily" as you'd say in human tongue
But when I was a tree, it did not feel so lazy
Rather, it was more like securely
Rather, it was more like steadily
What is this fury inside the human body?
It makes me dizzy
Look
Bones and muscles shed their old selves
To make new bones and muscles

Much has changed between now and just a while ago
When I first met you
So this is what aging means, isn't it?

Uh,
Your two manly hands
Like rough palm leaves
Rest on my two shoulders
What is this numbing warmth your hands convey
To my muscles and bones?
To speak
We trees don't have words
Time is running out
Once the time comes, I won't ever be
A human like this, forever
Tell me
How else are humans different from trees?
What is this?
What is this mysterious warmth
That comes to me through your fingers?
Tell me,
Something I missed doing
Not much time left
Yes -
What a pleasant thing to do, to respond.

Please, tell me.

As I place my hand here like so
The sound of your blood rushing in your chest
Grows so fast

Time is running out. Please, please tell me
What is the biggest thing I missed doing.

I feel as if there is something I should do, something fervent
Something I'd move my muscles for
Something I'd violently rub my joints for
To chat
Isn't there something else that is more important?
What is it?
What is this something humans do to be wholly human?

Just a while back
When you placed your manly hands on my womanly shoulders
My female muscles and bones felt a certain
Fulfillment and warmth
Doesn't that have much to do with
What I have yet to do?
Am I not missing something
Something violent
That goes well with the fury of metabolism
In this human body that holds bones and muscles?

But maybe I am wrong
Am I just babbling human words
While thinking like a tree?
What?
Are you saying I've missed doing something?
Tell me
Please
Why do you hesitate?
So you are saying, aren't you, it is different from
Talking,
Pointing,
Jumping,
Counting numbers and the like?

Goodness, how pained you look!

I thought humans had a wonderful thing called words
Which allow you
To convey, to inform or to express anything you want to,
But there are things that words can't help -
Ah, there's no time left

I want to know
What it is that I missed doing

With no words,
This
Is what you can tell me, isn't it?

As you clasp my shoulder as you are doing now
With your five fingers wrapped around my shoulder
Your thumb
Your forefinger
Your middle finger
Your ring finger
And your little finger
Five shocks run through me

Hurry! Time is running out!
...

The room was filled with
Darkness like silk
From inside
A graceful hand
Carefully closed the door

As dark as it was
The room
Waited for a storm

In the middle of thunder and lightning
Only for a moment
The room would be faintly lit
...

Doesn't your flesh remember
That we worshipped fire
That we danced wearing bones
That we twisted off the long thin neck of a bird
That we roasted a goat
And wrapped it gently in large soft leaves
And ate it?
Do you remember
Next to you, your woman was stirring
That aromatic thick brown goo
For a long, long time?
Do you remember
Inside the cave we drew graffiti
Of an afternoon nap and coitus
In mustard-colored cuneiform?
Do you remember
The village chief was older than anyone else
More gigantic than anyone else
And he answered every question we asked?
...

I want to sing of the bird
In a most fundamental way
First, his beak
His wings
His body
His legs
His tail
His eyes
That's all I need to say
With those alone
A bird can fly
...

The bird
Throws me a quick glance
And then
He pushes off from the branch
Right away
He is gone
As if to say
A long time ago humans caught a horrible disease
That keeps them from flying
...

That bird
When he beats his wings
The sky flies
Before he takes off
When he opens his beak
The world begins to sing
Before he does
That's him!
...

The sky flies the bird close in
It flies him far away
It erases the poppy-seed speck of him
That is all the sky can do for him
All we can do for him is to say
'Birds fly'

Dear Bird,
Won't you remove both wings for me?
Because I believe
It's not simply having wings
That lets you glide through the sky
That lets you look so imperial
...

気の合う
象 と
めぐりあいたい

象が眠っている間に
象の牙に
小鳥の絵をかきたい

象が識らないことがらの総量と
私が識らないことがらの総量とでは
私の分が
ずっしり 重い

象の前に
象の目方分の
花束を積み上げたい

象の背中に
誰も乗せないように

したい
仏陀にも
触らせないようにしたい

象
その具象としての
ミステリアスと
私は
生命連鎖の
どんな環に位置して
繋がっているのか
...