Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Masayo Koike

Alley

The small alley
Glimpsed from a fast train
I wonder where it goes?
Perhaps
In my whole life
In this alley where I shall never enter
There
People who I will never brush against
A row of dwellings that I will never see
Fish cooking I will never smell
One by one
All these impossible things lined up beside each other
Then, suddenly, vividly
With a feeling of familiarity stronger than towards any other path
This single alley rises up before me
Now
It’s accompanied by a sure sadness
That I am intimate with.
There myself turning my back standing
Going down the alley slope
Chasing the setting sun
Crossing bridge after bridge
Rapidly disappearing, growing smaller myself
Finally from the end of the alley in which I find myself
The cry of a newborn baby as if a lid has been removed
A hot July day
The day on which I was born
Sprinkled water glistens on the road

路地

路地

素早く走り去る電車から見えた
あの小さな路地は
どこへ伸びていくのだろうか
おそらく
わたしが一生
迷い込むことのない小さな路地
そこで
すれ違うことのない人々
見ることのない家並み
嗅ぐことのない魚を焼く匂い
ひとつ、ひとつ
あり得ぬものを並べていく
すると、ふいに、ありありと
ほかのどんな道よりも親しい表情で
ひとつの路地が立ち現れる
今度は
わたしにも見覚えのある
確かな悲しみまでも連れて。
そこに立つ後ろ向きのわたし
坂道を下り
日没を追いかけ
いくつも橋を渡り
どんどん、遠くなる、小さくなるわたし
やがて行きついた路地の奥から
蓋をとったように産声があがる
暑い七月
わたしの生まれた日
打ち水が往来にきらきらとひかっている
Close

Alley

The small alley
Glimpsed from a fast train
I wonder where it goes?
Perhaps
In my whole life
In this alley where I shall never enter
There
People who I will never brush against
A row of dwellings that I will never see
Fish cooking I will never smell
One by one
All these impossible things lined up beside each other
Then, suddenly, vividly
With a feeling of familiarity stronger than towards any other path
This single alley rises up before me
Now
It’s accompanied by a sure sadness
That I am intimate with.
There myself turning my back standing
Going down the alley slope
Chasing the setting sun
Crossing bridge after bridge
Rapidly disappearing, growing smaller myself
Finally from the end of the alley in which I find myself
The cry of a newborn baby as if a lid has been removed
A hot July day
The day on which I was born
Sprinkled water glistens on the road

Alley

The small alley
Glimpsed from a fast train
I wonder where it goes?
Perhaps
In my whole life
In this alley where I shall never enter
There
People who I will never brush against
A row of dwellings that I will never see
Fish cooking I will never smell
One by one
All these impossible things lined up beside each other
Then, suddenly, vividly
With a feeling of familiarity stronger than towards any other path
This single alley rises up before me
Now
It’s accompanied by a sure sadness
That I am intimate with.
There myself turning my back standing
Going down the alley slope
Chasing the setting sun
Crossing bridge after bridge
Rapidly disappearing, growing smaller myself
Finally from the end of the alley in which I find myself
The cry of a newborn baby as if a lid has been removed
A hot July day
The day on which I was born
Sprinkled water glistens on the road
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