Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yagi Jūkichi

Mother’s Eyes

Dusk

When I open my eyes
my mother back home too
opens her eyes in the distance—
I feel moved to cry out “Beloved one—”

Moon viewing

When bathed in moonlight
under its glow
my heart trembles

Washed sweet potatoes
pampas grass and tofu—I want to lay them out
“Moon viewing! Moon viewing!” I want to shout

Flowers keep falling I think
flowers keep falling I think
flowers keep falling I think
I’ll catch them in this palm I think

Tears
Because they're trivial
I stood bathed in sunlight
tears streaming down

Autumn

My heart grows agitated.

If I go to the flowers and tell them to bloom,

the flowers seem ready to bloom.

Light.

I want to play with light.

Laughing,

crying,

pushing and shoving each other.

Thinking of Mother

The scenery

The scenery grew brighter.
Taking Mother along,
I wanted to trudge with her.
Mother would surely—

“Jūkichi, Jūkichi,” she would call again and again.

The wind howled.

The wind howled through the corn.

“Die now,” it howled.

It became “Die now.”

I thought I would go and die.

The child was ill.

The child coughed.

I could only think of healing this cough.

My face—

I felt my face had grown enormous.

My face tried to loom over the child.

Let it resonate onward.

The vast sky—

Let it resonate vibrantly onward.

Release beautifully.

Pluck chrysanthemum buds.

Discard chrysanthemum buds.

Discard beautifully.

See beautifully.

My—

Standing beside.

Look at me.
See beautifully.

Path.
When I look at the path,
Heart dances.
Chirr-chirr.
Chirr-chirr chirps.

The heart
swarms and arises;
eventually is swept along.

Utterly childlike and clear.

Kerria.

If I think of Kerria—
Like water.

One day.

Heart

Beauteous days—
That which is torn.
Though it be torn, no sorrow stirs.
Calling my wife
Calling the child
conversing in play
Hatred.
In hatred,
If flowers bloom
The heart does not dance.

Night.

When night comes,
body and mind grow calm.
I sit casually, gazing at something flower-like.

The sun sinks.

The sun sank into the heart of brightness, but struck my chest as I watched and sank away.

Fruit.

When autumn came,
the fruit had forgotten everything,
entranced, they seemed to ripen on and on.

Wall.

It was autumn.
The grasses had completely changed color.

I went to the wall.

I want to listen intently to my own feelings.

Red nightgown.

Momoko, fresh from the bath, wore a red nightgown,

chattering away,

hopping around the futon area.

From her bright red body hands and feet protruded,

and with a quick turn she set her lovely face,

bobbing about in a little dance—

then slept by the quiet shoji screen.

I
Having been ill so long

I suddenly felt quite well,
I tried fooling around where no one was watching.
Miracle.

A man with leprosy
He came to Christ and bowed down in worship.
“Master,”
“I’m thinkin’ if you’d be so kind as to heal me, Master,”

“This sickness o’ mine’ll be healed right quick, Master.”
“Fix me up, Master.”
“I’ll pray, Master—heal me, Master.”

Christ made a sorrowful face.
And touched the man’s body,
“Very well. Now, be cleansed.”
When He uttered these words,
the leprosy was healed.
Flowers.
When she stays quiet,
“Flowers are blooming, aren’t they?” Momoko says.

Winter.

The tree has sprouted eyes and watches people.

Mystery.

When the heart grows beautiful,

There.

Brightly growing lighter,
whatever wonders might be born,
I come to feel I won't startle.
Quickly,
I come to feel I want wonders born.
Doll.

When she had been lying down,
Momoko—now turned horseback rider—
quietly placed a doll upon her back and went away.

She went off over there while singing a song.

The modest weight of the doll was so delightful that

She remained lying prone.
She was alternately puffing out her chest and tucking it in.
I walk beautifully.
The child
Busily, busily she walks.
She walks slightly unkemptly.
And yet,
And yet she occasionally flashes into beauty.

Sorrow.

Sorrow and

with me,

entwining legs, falters onward.

I pluck grass.

When I pluck grass,

The surroundings grow lighter.

I

I become only plucking grass.

Child.

A small child.

A small child turned away and flew off.

Spreading out the hem of her sleeves with both hands, she ran off.

As I watched,

I grew unbearably excited.

Rainy day.

Do I like the rain?

I do like it.

I will sing a song.

Ant.

Like an ant.
Fluttering lightly—should I go?
The great ant goes lightly.
Ōyama Tombo
Do you know Ōyama Tombo?
Black and enormous—it seems awe-inspiring.

Today.

Noon. Midday.

Because I heard something frustrating,

If I were to go out holding the baby,

Ōyama Tombo was floating on the road.

Creak creak—it headed off that way.

I too steadily followed after.

Insect.

Insects chirped.

If I don't cry now,

they cried as if to say it was all over.

Naturally,

tears were drawn forth.

Morning glory.

He looked at the morning glory.

He thought of death.

He thinks of ephemeral things.

Bush clover.
Do I like bush clover?
I do like it.
Shall I take some and play?
I will eat watermelon.

I will eat watermelon.

When I think about watermelon,

that part alone seems to shine brightly.

I will eat quickly.

Stray insect.

Suddenly.

Took and threw.

When I was watching the stray insect,

its back was blue

I was overcome by ephemeral feelings.

Spring

Momoko

“Daddy, you know...”

I want to get better soon and play with you.

Spring

When I watch the sparrows,

I wanted to become a sparrow.

陽遊

It really is spring now.

Feelings too,

My feelings have loosened so much they’ve become almost aimless.

But there they rose up, trembling.
There were also unbearable feelings akin to sunlit play.

Spring

It was such a beautifully clear morning.
Momoko opened the window and stuck out her neck.
"I’m a good girl—such a good girl," she sang.
Momoko was singing, "I’m a good girl, such a good girl."
Plum blossoms.
If I were to come see the plum blossoms,
only a few had bloomed yet.
The delicate branches glowed faintly.

Winter night

Oh, how the wind howled!

The children were already asleep.
While looking at my wife assembling the inhaler,
I truly thought I wanted to get better soon.

Illness.
Because my body was unwell,
my surroundings
seemed to thin out all around, leaving everything unsteady.

He called Momoko to his side and talked to her.

Sun.

Just by looking directly at the sun,

there are times when I feel happy.

Stone.

For a long time my body had been unwell,

when I walked along looking down,

a single small stone wrapped in the setting sun’s light lay rolling.

Spring.

He was lying down in the field.

He was gazing at the empty sky.

Spring.

He opened his eyes to morning.
My body's frailty.
I thought about my wife's circumstances and my children's future.
Tears came streaming out and wouldn't stop.

Spring.

A black dog
The black dog lumbered over to the veranda and is watching me.

Cherry blossoms.

When I look at these beautiful cherry blossoms,

I am struck by that singular emotion.

Path of God

I.
Even take off this kimono.
Become like a beggar.
Is it permissible not to follow God’s path?
In the end, my thoughts always come here.

Winter

When he was in a sad and resigned mood,
he was no longer startled by things.
I could only see winter as beautiful.
Winter sun.
The winter sun was thin,
but bright,
it comforted me—now unable to shed tears.

Forest

When the sun began to shine,

when he looked into the forest,

he felt something that drew people in like a festival.

Evening glow.
Under that evening glow,
thinking his wife and Momoko must be waiting,
he returned joyfully along the brightened path.

Frost

The earth endured its beautiful emotion with all its might.

It could not pour out that feeling into grass or flowers.

At last it bared its flesh and produced fierce frost.

Winter.

The leaves turned red.
Unable to bear the beauty, they fell.

The earth grew cold.
Producing frost and trying not to die.

I want to point at the sun.

When I looked at the sky with its wan sunlight,
the part where the sun was brightened.
I felt compelled to point at that sun.
My heart vainly wanted to point at the sun.

Rain

When I open the window and look at the rain,

I don’t need anything at all,

I want to remain in this calm state of mind.

Blackened tree.

When I looked up at the blackened tree,

over there they were looking down at me.

“Are you folding your arms again?” they said, looking down.

Shoji.

A bright autumn had arrived.

He edged close to the quiet shoji,
like a quiet child,
I want to remain still and savor the ambiance.

Paulownia tree

Do I like the paulownia tree?
I like it.
Shall I go over to the paulownia tree?

Shining person
The shining person wiped me away completely
I want to have a shining person stand there

Tree

Clearly.

Around the time I think, “It’s already autumn,”
I find myself drawn to all manner of things—
bright days among them—
and feel compelled to go stand by some great tree.

Ghost

Winter.

When night fell,
a hazy state of mind came over me.
I started to feel like a ghost might appear.

Dance

Winter arrived.

Days this quiet were rare.

If I were to take Momoko out,

at the edge of the oak forest

the child began to dance spontaneously,

rotating her clasped hands near her chin.

Wearing a crimson woolen hood and tilting her head,

she kept bobbing up and down.

The puffed-out layers of the thickly worn kimono had been dyed.

The red phoenix pattern was bright.

My heart that had gazed intently at death

I was happy to see Momoko dance.

A simple koto

Into this brightness

Placing a single simple koto,

Unable to endure the beauty of autumn,

The koto will quietly begin to play.

Resonance

Autumn became completely bright.
In the depths of this brightness,
there seemed to be a quiet resonance.
Mist.

Mist was brimming.

The morning sun seems to have risen.

My heart swells modestly.

Hometown.

On days when my heart was dark,

the hometown seemed as bright as a festival.

Child.

A hill.

A field.

A slender tree.

Spindly and sparse, it grew.

Round.

Spring’s late afternoon.

A dirty child.

Round and wide,

the child stared this way, eyes wide and unblinking.

Pig.

Even this pig
was cute.
But it was spring, after all—
inhaling the lovely scenery
as I walked in a trance.

Dog.

A shaggy dog.

Momoko’s
The dog had eaten Momoko’s feces.

Persimmon leaves.
Persimmon leaves were joyful.
Persimmon leaves seemed to say it was fine to die.
They denied themselves.
Their bearing was beautiful.

Tears.
If I closed my eyes,
Hot.
Tears came out.
Clouds.
That cloud was a cloud.
That pine grove too was a cloud.
The people from over there,
The people too,
If only they could be clouds.

Coins.
Because I'm lonely.
I'm fiddling with coins.
Water and grass were in good form.
Early summer's
In the cold shade was a rice field.

Around it,
there was a small stream.
Grass grew near the water.
All of them were such splendid beings—
someone like me—

I felt like my face was disappearing.

Heaven.

The sky—

Above the head,

Heaven is that which can be seen.

The Lord God

If He is to be present, it is there.

There is no one else.

Autumn light.

Light spills forth.

Autumn light falls to the ground and spreads.

Let us play in this light

Moon.

When bathed in moonlight,

I spontaneously come to want to play,

quietly shed tears,

find myself smiling and wanting to dance.

Sorrow—

caressing it like a breast,

if parted from sorrow,

I resolve myself toward death.

Hometown river.

Hometown river—

Hometown river, O—

The hometown river was likely flowing with a pleasant sound.

The hometown mountain.
He reflected the hometown mountain upon the chest.
He enjoyed the evening.
Face.
Somewhere.

Is there truly no face I’ve come to love?

If one were to pass briskly through that face,

I feel like there is a truly good world.

Sunset.
Now the sun set.
Red clouds were scattered.

I watched for a long time with Momoko at the crossroads.

Winter night.

If I could mingle with everyone in their playful mood,

I found myself fond of imagining that would bring the greatest joy.

I smoothed the hibachi's ashes.

Radiant day

Momoko

He went out again.

Shall I go gather some red bramble berries?

winter

after a long time lost in thought,

when I had cleanly resigned myself and went outside,

a near-evening birch-colored sky

cold and taut.

I was truly happy when it appeared between the clouds.

Winter field

Is it because I think of nothing but dying?

In the shadow of withered reeds
I thought I saw something red.

Sickbed Untitled

Is there no poem that kills people?

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Is there no poem that breathes life back into me?

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Nah, as if I’d die!

He stroked the child’s hair.

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Beside the red shoots
Wriggling.
Consider the rat snake.
Plum blossoms.

As if awakened,
even the plum blossoms had come to understand their own feelings,

While they were thinking such things, their flowers must have bloomed.

And

Like on cold mornings when frost forms

The plum blossoms’ own feelings must become their fragrance just as they are.

Rain.

The rain moistened the soil as it moved on.

Squatting beside what rain itself was—

I want to observe what the rain does.

Withering wind.

The wind came howling in.

The wind calmed down completely somewhere.

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When the snow was falling,

When I looked at the base of the tree,

I felt as though whimsical little folk were playing tricks there.

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God, I’ve grown to long to meet You.

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I saw for the first time what is called my own face in a dream.

On a night when the fever had persisted for days on end,

I slept invoking Christ.

A single face appeared.

That was certainly
neither my current face,
nor my own face from childhood,
nor the face I always envision in my heart.
It was not even the face of the most noble angel.
It was a face far more excellent than those.
That the face was my own became clear of its own accord.

The area around the face was a darkness tinged with gold.

When he awoke the next morning,
The fever had not particularly subsided.
Yet strangely, my heart was calm.