(II)
The samurai, Ryunosuke, speaks:
There are so many ghosts my sword has
given to death's kingdom. They gather
around me, shove their bloody faces
into my face. But I have left fear
far behind me, sometimes I see fear
leering at me. I growl and send it
packing! Then I drown myself in sake,
and fall into a troubled sleep. I wake,
I shudder, I grab my sword and hold it
against my heart. One beats, the other
is still. That is the nature of things.
You cannot change this reality. Can you?
A Buddhist monk confronted me. People
were watching. I would not be held up
to ridicule. I sent him packing,
and the others. Later I found the monk.
He expected to be killed. His eyes closed
to the flowers of spring, he braced himself
for the death-blow. Instead I dropped coins
at his feet, and walked slowly away. I want
people to be confused. I want them to feel
no one can understand me. I want them to stay
away from me... If they knew how I live
while others die, they would be compassionate.
But I will not allow their compassion,
I turn my back on them. I join in no games,
pretend I cannot hear theirs greetings,
sleep alone, night after night, and
drink sake until I pass out. Then
I cross paths, in my dreams, with men
who are from another dangerous clan.
Or I am enveloped in a swirl of women -
their perfume, their silk kimonas,
their laughter, their promise of
pleasure. I push them away, I go away.
This life has become tedious, is it worth it?
My sword, my soul, is all that matters. That IS life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem