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Sakura no uta (Full Poem)

created Jan 19th 2022, 19:19 by Icecontrol1


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1582 words
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Preface
The phenomenon called I
Is one postulated, organic alternating-current-lamp
Blue illumination
(A complex of all transparent ghosts)
Together with scenes and with everyone
Busily, busily flickering
Very surely to keep on lighting,
One karmic alternating-current-lamp
Blue illumination
(Light persisting, its electric lamp lost)
These, from twenty-two months'
Direction sensed to be past
Papers and mineral ink assembling
(Everything that flickers with me
Everyone senses at the same time)
Continuing on to this,
Are links and links of light and shade,
Sketches of mental images as they are
About all this, people, galaxies, asuras and sea urchins
Eating cosmic dust, inhaling air or saltwater
Miyazawa Kenji's "Preface"
and
Other Poems
Tomiyama Hidetoshi and Michael Pronko
Might think up fresh ontologies
But they are ultimately a mental climate
Yet surely these recorded scenes are
Each the very scene recorded as it is
And if it is nothing, nothing itself is as it is
And so to an extent is shared by everyone
(All is within me everyone
So everyone within each one is all)
Yet within the Cenozoic alluvial epoch's
Enormous shining accumulation of time,
The words supposed to have been rendered correctly
In a light's eclipse, time's mere speck
(Or a billion years of Asura)
Might have already changed composition or quality
And yet both I and the typographer
Might sense them to be not changed at all,
That, as a tendency, is possible,
Really as we sense our receptive organs
And scenes and characters
Just sensing them in common,
So what is called records and histories, geological histories
Along with various data
(Under the temporal spatial constraints of karma)
Are no more than what we sense
Perhaps two thousand years from now
A pertinently different geology will be adopted
Relevant evidence will emerge one by one from the past
So everyone will think that two thousand years before
There were colorless peacocks filling the blue sky
And then aspiring scholars at the upper stratum of the atmosphere
From the place of glittering frozen nitrogen
Will excavate splendid fossils
Or might well find
In a stratified plane of Cretaceous sandstone
Gigantic footprints of transparent humankind
All these propositions are asserted
As properties of images or time itself
In the fourth dimensional continuum
 January 20, 1924 Miyazawa Kenji
Miyazawa Kenji’s "Preface" and Other Poems
Spring and Asura
 (mental sketch modified)
From the gray steel of mental images
Akebi vines coil around clouds
Wild rose thickets, humus marshes
Everywhere patterns and patterns of duplicity
(When thicker than the noon's wind-instrument music
Amber splinters fall down)
Anger's bitterness, blueness
At the bottom of the light in April's atmosphere
Spitting, gnashing, coming and going
I am an asura
(The scene swaying in tears)
Unto the limits of visible smashing clouds
 In the limpid sea of the heavens
 The winds of Sacred Glass go far and wide
 Zypressen one single row of spring
 Breathes in ether, black
 From the column of their darkened feet
 Snowy ridges of Mount Heaven can be glimpsed, however
 (Shimmering waves, white polarized light)
 True words are not here
 Clouds scatter and fly in the sky
 Ah, at the bottom of shining April
 Gnashing, burning coming and going
 I am an asura
 (Chalcedonic clouds flowing
 Where does it sing, a bird of spring?)
 The Sun Wheel darkening to blue
 Asura resonates with the woods
 From heaven's bowl collapsing in a dazzle
 Throngs of black trees extend
 Their branches grown thick and sorrowful
 All the duplicated scenes when
 In the dispirited woods from a treetop
 Flashes, darts off, a crow
 (The atmosphere clearer and clearer
 The hushed cypresses stand in the heavens)
Someone is passing the grass field's gold
One ordinary human form
In a straw coat looking at me, a farmer
Can you really see me?
At the bottom of the blinding ocean atmosphere
(The sorrow deeper and bluer)
Zypressen swaying quietly
A bird again cuts the blue sky
(True words are not here
Asura's tears fall to the dirt)
Breathing in the sky anew
The lungs shrink, pale white
(May this body be dispersed into particles in the sky)
The treetops of ginkgos flash once again
Zypressen blacker and blacker
Sparks of clouds flow down
(April 8, 1922)
Annelida Tanzerin
 (Well this is water sol
 Hazy agar liquid)
The sunlight golden roses
A small, red wriggling worm
Wearing water and light around its body
Is alone doing a dance
 Truly arabesque letters decorate)
Fly corpses
Dead yew leaves
Pearl bubbles
Moss stems ripped up and so
 (Princess Nachiranatora
 Now at the bottom of the water on a granite stone
 Together with Mister Yellow Shadow
 Deigns to dance for pleasure
 Oh but, no, before long
 Her Highness will float up, soon)
The red Annelida Tanzerin
Has two pointed ears
With segments of phosphorescent coral
Adorned primly with pearl buttons
She turns and twirls around
 Truly arabesque letters decorate)
Miyazawa Kenji’s "Preface" and Other Poems
Wind Woods
 (In an oak tree no bird builds a nest
 Because it rattles too much)
Here the grass is too rough
And doesn't suit breathing air from a faraway sky and
Falling over as hard as I like
There lying down watery-colored
 Toshio, you get that numbness often
 The other day you made me button up for you))
Which Toshio of the two? Kawamura?
That pale genius of comedy, an actor in "The Plant Doctor"
I should jump up to my feet
 ((Oh you said Toshio, which one?))
 ((Kawamura))
As I thought,
Moonbeams stir the throng of oaks
The oaks rustle all over
This side of the green bank wet with the rain
A mantle coated with rubber as if blue with mud
Is moving slowly, slowly
That surely is a tough thing
Where are you right now?
Already in the yellowish shady space on the right side of me
Are you standing straight?
The rain has turned more transparent, and stronger
Is some child chewing?
Over there that man sputters noises from his throat
Now I think I'd like to go into the hallway
Please come and go with me ten more times
With your big, bare feet shining white
On the cold boards
Please walk with me
(May 12, 1922)
[The hanging ornaments are hard, and drop down straight]
[the beginning lost]
The hanging ornaments are hard, and drop down straight.
Really, shimmering and shining, the living things fall down.
Truly those heavenly beings'
Sorrowful cries more transparent
Than hydrogen sometime somewhere,
Have you not heard?
The spears of ice sticking straight into the heavens,
Their cries, you must have heard.
But when you hear about those who
Fall down, or those who drowning try to
Gulp down bitter salt water wholeheartedly,
You only hear it now as
A pitiable story of certain silly things
Or a slightly unusual tale.
Yet only to think so
And actually to bite into water
Are utterly, utterly different.
It is cold enough to be hot,
Bitter enough to be tasteless,
Sad enough for blue darkness to become transparent.
Those who have fallen there all cry out,
Is it I who have fallen into this lake?
Has the fall really happened?
Completely. Who could believe that at once?
But in the end they believe it,
And are sadder because of it.
I have told you such a thing
Not so that you may not fall
But for you to fall, and to swim all the way.
Everyone will see it, and
The strongest ones fall down wishing it,
And then fly upward, together with the other ones.
(May 12, 1922)
(July 5, 1924)
When I go through this woods
The path will return to the waterwheel I saw
The birds are crying, glimmering
They surely are thrushes, migrating
All night long as the southern tip of the Milky Way
Exploded in shining white
Fireflies flew too often
And moreover the winds incessantly shook the trees,
So the birds could not sleep peacefully
And now are so noisy
Yet
Only because I barely stepped into this woods
Loud like this
Louder like this
They are crying like a shower of rain
What strange fellows!
This is a big cypress woods, and
Miyazawa Kenji's "Preface" and Other Poems
Upon each of the pitch-black branches
Here and there shreds of sky are
Trembling and respiring,
To send out a kind of catalog
Of the lights of all ages
 ......As the birds are so noisy
 I am standing, blank......
The path flows far away, barely white
And from a dent in a clump of trees
A red, turbid Mars rises
Only two of the birds at some time came here stealthily
And went away leaving clear, screeching sounds
Ah, as the winds blow sending the sensations
Of warmth and silver molecules
And all the tetrahedrons,
And fireflies fly fitfully,
The birds cry louder than the rain
I hear my dead sister's voice
From the farthest end of the woods
 ......So even if it's no longer so,
 As with anyone it’s the same
 No need to think about it again......
The grass vapors and cedar smell
The birds are noisy again
Why do they cry so loud?
Even when the men drawing water for rice paddies
Walk furtively at the edge of the woods
And the stars shoot again and again in the southern sky,
There’s nothing very dangerous
One may sleep quietly

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