Gedicht
Yosuke Tanaka
A Day When the Mountains are Visible
Being nice to people—what was that again? People who aren’t used to being nice just act worn out. People who aren’t used to being treated kindly just keep on living their cold lives. In any case, it doesn’t do any good to complain about that.The fact that the sky is clear doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be able to see the mountains out there in Okutama, but it’s impossible to see them if it isn’t. When was it I realized you can see the Okutama Mountains on the horizon from the hills of Suginami? Thinking the small outlines of those lovely mountains are probably visible right now, I lean out the window and find I can see the khaki-colored mountains clearly. They’re even bigger than I had remembered.
On days when your heart is clear, it’s fun to be nice to people. When you can’t be nice, you probably won’t have much fun either. Most likely, you’ll spend the day alone, gloomy and cheerless. Just look at all that frustration offered under the guise of high literature. Still, there must be something on the other side of that mountain. It’s hard to always be gentle, and that’s why, for instance, the temples in those mountains have been so important for so long. That’s why.
It’s hard to be nice to people you work with. Selflessness isn’t a virtue to them, and if you run off to paradise, you’d be distancing yourself from your work. Even so, one can’t indulge the serpent of the ego when it slithers out from the boundaries of charisma. There’s something wrong with it—that serpent of the ego, which lives by consuming distorted, dark energy . . .
I needed the proper grandness of nature so as not to get tangled up in the twisted, unreasonable serpent. I needed the quiet, gentle power of nature so that I not bow my head as the cruel, double-headed serpent stuck its head from under the invisible table and flicked its tongue.
How wonderful it must be to live without feeling animosity toward people. The bus is driving down the tree-lined street toward me, while the mountains are visible in the distance.
© Translation: 2009, Jeffrey Angles
A DAY WHEN THE MOUNTAINS ARE VISIBLE
© 2008, Yosuke Tanaka
From: Sweet na gunjyo no yume (Sweet Ultramarine Dreams)
Publisher: Michitani, Tokyo
From: Sweet na gunjyo no yume (Sweet Ultramarine Dreams)
Publisher: Michitani, Tokyo
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A DAY WHEN THE MOUNTAINS ARE VISIBLE
From: Sweet na gunjyo no yume (Sweet Ultramarine Dreams)
A Day When the Mountains are Visible
Being nice to people—what was that again? People who aren’t used to being nice just act worn out. People who aren’t used to being treated kindly just keep on living their cold lives. In any case, it doesn’t do any good to complain about that.The fact that the sky is clear doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be able to see the mountains out there in Okutama, but it’s impossible to see them if it isn’t. When was it I realized you can see the Okutama Mountains on the horizon from the hills of Suginami? Thinking the small outlines of those lovely mountains are probably visible right now, I lean out the window and find I can see the khaki-colored mountains clearly. They’re even bigger than I had remembered.
On days when your heart is clear, it’s fun to be nice to people. When you can’t be nice, you probably won’t have much fun either. Most likely, you’ll spend the day alone, gloomy and cheerless. Just look at all that frustration offered under the guise of high literature. Still, there must be something on the other side of that mountain. It’s hard to always be gentle, and that’s why, for instance, the temples in those mountains have been so important for so long. That’s why.
It’s hard to be nice to people you work with. Selflessness isn’t a virtue to them, and if you run off to paradise, you’d be distancing yourself from your work. Even so, one can’t indulge the serpent of the ego when it slithers out from the boundaries of charisma. There’s something wrong with it—that serpent of the ego, which lives by consuming distorted, dark energy . . .
I needed the proper grandness of nature so as not to get tangled up in the twisted, unreasonable serpent. I needed the quiet, gentle power of nature so that I not bow my head as the cruel, double-headed serpent stuck its head from under the invisible table and flicked its tongue.
How wonderful it must be to live without feeling animosity toward people. The bus is driving down the tree-lined street toward me, while the mountains are visible in the distance.
© 2009, Jeffrey Angles
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