Poem
Mitsuharu Kaneko
Evening
White rocks, multitudinous wharf roaches scatter.It’s a lonely, darkening shore.
. . . In the offing, a heavy stone mortar is being ground, grinding.
Straight rain unto dry seashells, black codiums, corroded anchors. . . .
Ah, becoming soaked, I sat at a sea corner,
and let the negligence of my life be washed!
It’s an ancient soul. The sea!
What’s lonely is the evening,
the abyss around me, the battles of waves
. . . Far off, at the tip of sleet-hued tides,
on a branch where great kelps cross,
stands a seahorse, darkening.
© Translation: 2008, Hiroaki Sato
This poem is one of the series called "At Mogi, Nagasaki". Mogi is a small port town or fishing village facing Amakusa Sound, on the east side of the Nomo Peninsula. Nagasaki City is on the west side. “Evening” is the second of the three poems in the sequence.
夕
夕
白い岩、夥しい船虫が散る。くれてゆく淋しい磯だ。
……沖で、重い石臼をごろんごろんひいてゐる。
かわいた貝殻、黒海松(みる)、しょう錨に真っ直ぐな雨……。
あゝ、私は、濡れてゆくまゝに、海角に腰を掛け、
我生の怠りを洗はせた!
旧い魂だよ。海!
侘しいものは夕、
みのまはりの奈落、波の闘
……遠く、みぞれ色の潮先で
大葉藻(あまも)の交叉した枝に
竜の落子が立つたまゝ暮れてゆく。
© 1926, Mitsuharu Kaneko
From: Mizu no ruroh (Wanderings of water),
Publisher: Shinchosha, Tokyo
From: Mizu no ruroh (Wanderings of water),
Publisher: Shinchosha, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Mitsuharu Kaneko
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Evening
White rocks, multitudinous wharf roaches scatter.It’s a lonely, darkening shore.
. . . In the offing, a heavy stone mortar is being ground, grinding.
Straight rain unto dry seashells, black codiums, corroded anchors. . . .
Ah, becoming soaked, I sat at a sea corner,
and let the negligence of my life be washed!
It’s an ancient soul. The sea!
What’s lonely is the evening,
the abyss around me, the battles of waves
. . . Far off, at the tip of sleet-hued tides,
on a branch where great kelps cross,
stands a seahorse, darkening.
© 2008, Hiroaki Sato
From: Mizu no ruroh (Wanderings of water),
From: Mizu no ruroh (Wanderings of water),
Evening
White rocks, multitudinous wharf roaches scatter.It’s a lonely, darkening shore.
. . . In the offing, a heavy stone mortar is being ground, grinding.
Straight rain unto dry seashells, black codiums, corroded anchors. . . .
Ah, becoming soaked, I sat at a sea corner,
and let the negligence of my life be washed!
It’s an ancient soul. The sea!
What’s lonely is the evening,
the abyss around me, the battles of waves
. . . Far off, at the tip of sleet-hued tides,
on a branch where great kelps cross,
stands a seahorse, darkening.
© 2008, Hiroaki Sato
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