Gedicht
Mitsuharu Kaneko
The Song of Loneliness
Finally these guardian deities of the lonely spirit brought the war.You are not to blame. I, of course, am not to blame. Everything is the doing of loneliness.
Loneliness made them carry guns, even made them, with the bait of loneliness, shrug off their mothers and wives
and leave toward where the flags flapped.
Trinket makers, cleaners, clerks, students,
all turning into folk shaken with the wind.(1)
Every and each one, no distinction among them. All taught to die was best.(2)
Petty, timid, good-natured people, their thoughts darkened in the name of the Emperor, went off like brats, delighted, hubbubbing.
But on the home front, we’re nervous,
fearful of an arrow with white feathers, (3)
forcing ourselves to push aside skepticism and anxiety,
we try to spend just this one day, we’re all doomed anyway,
drunk on the sake given out. (4)
Egoism, and the shallowness of love.
Bearing it in silence, women wait for rations,
linking themselves like beggars.
People’s expressions growing sadder day by day,
the fate of the folk of an all-out nation,
I had not seen, since my birth, a loneliness so immediate, so profound.
But I no longer care. To me, such loneliness doesn’t mean anything now.
The loneliness that I, I now truly feel lonely about
is that I can’t feel, around me, any desire, not even of a single person,
holding his ground in the opposite direction of this degradation, trying to find the very roots of loneliness as he walks with the world. That’s it. That’s the only thing.
On 5 May 1945, Boys’ Day (5)
© Translation: 2008, Hiroaki Sato. Please note that editorial changes made to this translation have not yet been approved by the translator.
This poem is taken from the collection Human Tragedy, which includes, according to Kaneko, many of the poems he wrote from the time of the China Incident in 1937, when Japan’s war against China took a serious turn, until ten days before Japan’s defeat in 1945. They were anti-war poems, but Kaneko managed to publish many of them with the “conspiratorial collaboration” of the famed editor of the monthly Chuhoh Kohron, Hatanaka Shigeo.
‘The Song of Loneliness’ is the last poem in the collection, and consists of four sections. The poem is based on Kaneko’s perception that every aspect of what makes the Japanese Japanese – the land, society, behaviour, customs, psychology, clothing – is a manifestation of sabishisa, ‘loneliness’. At one point in the poem, he asserts: “I was born / out of the deep fog of this land, which is covered with loneliness,” and, later, “In this country, / only loneliness is always fresh.” The final section of the poem is translated here.
(1) A allusion to the Bible, Luke, 7:24: “What went ye out into the wilderness for to see? A reed shaken with the wind?” In 1906, when he was eleven, Kaneko became a catechumen. He wrote a number of poems with biblical allusions.
(2) In Japanese tradition, becoming a soldier was equated with readiness to die, if not to outright death. See Hiroaki Sato’s online article, “Gyokusai or ‘Shattering like a Jewel’: Reflection on the Pacific War” at http://japanfocus.org/products/details/2662.
(3) In Japanese folklore, a deity wanting a human sacrifice (usually a pretty, young woman) shoots an arrow with white feathers into the roof of the house where she lives. Here it represents a draft notice.
(4) When a young man received a draft notice, his family would turn it into a celebratory occasion, throwing a party for friends and relatives, before sending their son off with the word “Banzai!”
(5) A national holiday in Japan. Originally Chinese. Girls’ Day, also originally Chinese, occurs on March 3.
寂しさの歌 四
寂しさの歌 四
遂にこの寂しい精神のうぶすなたちが、戦争をもってきたんだ。君たちのせゐじゃない。僕のせゐでは勿論ない。みんな寂しさがなせるわざなんだ。
寂しさが銃をかつがせ、寂しさの釣出しにあつて、旗のなびく方へ、
母や妻をふりすててまで出発したのだ。
かざり職人も、洗濯屋も、手代たちも、学生も、
風にそよぐ民となつて。
誰も彼も、区別はない。死ねばいゝと教へられたのだ。
ちんぴらで、小心で、好人物な人人は、「天皇」の名で、目先まつくらになつて、腕白のやうによろこびさわいで出ていつた。
だが、銃後はびくびくもので
あすの白羽の箭(や)を怖れ、
懐疑と不安をむりにおしのけ、
どうせ助からぬ、せめて今日一日を、
ふるまひ酒で酔つてすごさうとする。
エゴイズムと、愛情の浅さ。
黙々として忍び、乞食のやうに、
つながつて配給をまつ女たち。
日に日にかなしげになつてゆく人人の表情から
国をかたむけた民族の運命の
これほどさしせまつた、ふかい寂しさを僕はまだ、生まれてからみたことはなかつたのだ。
しかし、もうどうでもいゝ。僕にとつて、そんな寂しさなんか、今は何でもない。
僕、僕がいま、ほんたうに寂しがつてゐる寂しさは、
この零落の方向とは反対に、
ひとりふみとゞまつて、寂しさの根元をがつきとつきとめようとして、世界といつしよに歩いてゐるたつた一人の意欲も僕のまはりに感じられない、そのことだ。そのことだけなのだ。
昭和二〇・五・五 端午の日
© 1948, Mitsuharu Kaneko
From: Rakkasan (Parachute)
Publisher: Nihon Miraiha Hakkosho,
From: Rakkasan (Parachute)
Publisher: Nihon Miraiha Hakkosho,
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寂しさの歌 四
遂にこの寂しい精神のうぶすなたちが、戦争をもってきたんだ。君たちのせゐじゃない。僕のせゐでは勿論ない。みんな寂しさがなせるわざなんだ。
寂しさが銃をかつがせ、寂しさの釣出しにあつて、旗のなびく方へ、
母や妻をふりすててまで出発したのだ。
かざり職人も、洗濯屋も、手代たちも、学生も、
風にそよぐ民となつて。
誰も彼も、区別はない。死ねばいゝと教へられたのだ。
ちんぴらで、小心で、好人物な人人は、「天皇」の名で、目先まつくらになつて、腕白のやうによろこびさわいで出ていつた。
だが、銃後はびくびくもので
あすの白羽の箭(や)を怖れ、
懐疑と不安をむりにおしのけ、
どうせ助からぬ、せめて今日一日を、
ふるまひ酒で酔つてすごさうとする。
エゴイズムと、愛情の浅さ。
黙々として忍び、乞食のやうに、
つながつて配給をまつ女たち。
日に日にかなしげになつてゆく人人の表情から
国をかたむけた民族の運命の
これほどさしせまつた、ふかい寂しさを僕はまだ、生まれてからみたことはなかつたのだ。
しかし、もうどうでもいゝ。僕にとつて、そんな寂しさなんか、今は何でもない。
僕、僕がいま、ほんたうに寂しがつてゐる寂しさは、
この零落の方向とは反対に、
ひとりふみとゞまつて、寂しさの根元をがつきとつきとめようとして、世界といつしよに歩いてゐるたつた一人の意欲も僕のまはりに感じられない、そのことだ。そのことだけなのだ。
昭和二〇・五・五 端午の日
From: Rakkasan (Parachute)
The Song of Loneliness
Finally these guardian deities of the lonely spirit brought the war.You are not to blame. I, of course, am not to blame. Everything is the doing of loneliness.
Loneliness made them carry guns, even made them, with the bait of loneliness, shrug off their mothers and wives
and leave toward where the flags flapped.
Trinket makers, cleaners, clerks, students,
all turning into folk shaken with the wind.(1)
Every and each one, no distinction among them. All taught to die was best.(2)
Petty, timid, good-natured people, their thoughts darkened in the name of the Emperor, went off like brats, delighted, hubbubbing.
But on the home front, we’re nervous,
fearful of an arrow with white feathers, (3)
forcing ourselves to push aside skepticism and anxiety,
we try to spend just this one day, we’re all doomed anyway,
drunk on the sake given out. (4)
Egoism, and the shallowness of love.
Bearing it in silence, women wait for rations,
linking themselves like beggars.
People’s expressions growing sadder day by day,
the fate of the folk of an all-out nation,
I had not seen, since my birth, a loneliness so immediate, so profound.
But I no longer care. To me, such loneliness doesn’t mean anything now.
The loneliness that I, I now truly feel lonely about
is that I can’t feel, around me, any desire, not even of a single person,
holding his ground in the opposite direction of this degradation, trying to find the very roots of loneliness as he walks with the world. That’s it. That’s the only thing.
On 5 May 1945, Boys’ Day (5)
© 2008, Hiroaki Sato. Please note that editorial changes made to this translation have not yet been approved by the translator.
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