Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Shinjiro Kurahara

SALMON

Some slices of a salmon
on the white dish.
 
At nine a.m. in the water of the north country
on which the blue sun threw its rays
the cornered salmon died with its last shriek,
like a rat’s,
while all its scales turned rainbow.
 
Every morning
at nine
the ghost of that salmon
comes and goes in the sea of the white dish.

白い皿の上の
鮭の切身
 
午前九時の青い太陽の
投影する北国の水の中
おいつめられたあいつが
きゅうといって息たえた時
あいつの鱗は全部虹色に光った
 
午前九時になると
いつでも  あいつの亡霊が
白い皿の海を
いったりきたりする
Close

SALMON

Some slices of a salmon
on the white dish.
 
At nine a.m. in the water of the north country
on which the blue sun threw its rays
the cornered salmon died with its last shriek,
like a rat’s,
while all its scales turned rainbow.
 
Every morning
at nine
the ghost of that salmon
comes and goes in the sea of the white dish.

SALMON

Some slices of a salmon
on the white dish.
 
At nine a.m. in the water of the north country
on which the blue sun threw its rays
the cornered salmon died with its last shriek,
like a rat’s,
while all its scales turned rainbow.
 
Every morning
at nine
the ghost of that salmon
comes and goes in the sea of the white dish.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère