2 Poems by Jay OTSUKA

A Dancing Paper Bag

The boy (he was 65 years old but I still call him a boy) found the
truth. After 60 years of rigorous study, he proved that such and
such (insert a specialty of your choice) solved all the mysteries of
the universe, the essence of who we are, why we exist, what it
means to us, and what we are supposed to do accordingly.

Additionally, such and such helped prove or disprove the
existence of God/god/any form of higher being(s), solve the pesky
questions of subjectivity and objectivity, nature and nurture, and,
most importantly, answer why his mother had not loved him
unconditionally in his childhood and why his sister Tammy got
more donuts than he.

But as he proudly announced his great finding concerning such
and such, those around him, including the Academy of Such and
Such, and Such and Such Magazine, gave him the cold shoulder,
and disregarded his idea.

Such and such has since been hanging from a branch of a bonsai
plant in the fake plastic Zen garden, which is on sale for only $9.98.
The hot wind shrivels the such and such on the dead tree. Some
say that at night, when no one is watching, the dry such and such
dances soullessly by a near-shredded paper bag.

An Apology

I am sorry for apologizing
but something compels me

I see it only when it`s
reflecting on your face

pops up his head
and shies away
behind skirt
like a stray bee
in a sunny barnyard
in your eternal
iconic memory

My food runs out.

Habitually expressing my superficial
anxiety (“I am anxious because you are
important to me”; [fake smiles, sometimes
mask-like faces, though
not really successful.] Do I still look
like a jerk to you?)

Reminds me of my mother
pushing my head
down in front of the guests

Am I boxed in as hers? Perhaps
things are not that simple
but—

My neck is still sour
even after these years.

———————–

About the author. Jay Otsuka (大塚滋英) is a literary and technical translator in
the Tokyo area. He lived in the United States for 14 years. He is a
graduate of Temple University and the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, USA.

Acknowledgements. “A Dancing Paper Bag” first appeared in Fulcrum
(Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA), No. 6 in 2007. “An Apology” was
written expressly for this inaugural issue of Arabiki. Both were originally written in English.

———————–

Jay Otsuka / ARABIKI No. 1
Spring 2011. Co-edited by Akira Kouyama and Jay Otsuka
in collaboration with the Boston Poetry Union.

*

おどるかみぶくろ

ついに少年（六十五歳だが少年と呼ぶ）は真実を見つけた。
六十年間のもうれつな研究の末生まれた「かくかくしかじか」
（括弧内に研究分野を記入せよ）は宇宙の全てを解き明かし、
人間存在のエッセンス（核心）や我々はどうして存在するのか、
宇宙や人間の存在は何を意味し我々は何をしたらよいのかを
はっきりと指し示した。

更に「かくかくしかじか」は神やカミやいかなる種類
（と呼ぶことが出来ればだが）の高次な存在の実在（または非実在）
を証明し、主観と客観・氏と育ちといっためんどうな問題だけでなく
（最も重要なことだが）幼少の折りどうしてお母さんが無条件に愛してくれず
おねえさん（名前はタミィ）ばかりドーナツを余分にもらったのか、

という質問にはっきりと答えを出したのだった。
だが、少年が「かくかくしかじか」とそれにまつわる発見を
発表するや否や「かくかくしかじか学会」と「かくしかマガジン」
をはじめ、まわりの人々は少年に背を向け、以来一顧だにしなかった。

それからというもの、「かくかくしかじか」はたった九ドル九十八セントで
叩き売りのニセモノ禅庭（樹脂製）の盆栽の枝にぶら下がっている。
暑い風は死んだ枝に乗っかった「かくかくしかじか」をしなびさせている。
誰かが言うには夜になり誰も見ていないとき
カラカラになった「かくかくしかじか」は
魂が抜けたようにぼろぼろのかみぶくろと一緒におどっているそうだ。

ごめんなさい

謝ってごめんなさい
でも何かが僕を突き動かしたから

あなたの顔に
反射している時だけそれをみる。

もぐらたたきのように
頭を出したとおもったら
スカートのかげに
さっと引っ込める
まるで
よく晴れた日の農場で
迷子になったみつばちが　あなたの
永遠のアイコニックメモリーのなかで
眠っているように。

*

食べ物はもうないよ。

*

表面だけ恐縮して見せて
（「あなたが重要だからかしこまっております。」
[作り笑い、時には能面のようなかお、全然役に立たないけれど。]
僕はクソ野郎ですか？）

おもいだす。
来客のとき　母が
ちゃんと挨拶しなさいと僕の頭を
手でぐりぐりさげさせたことを。

僕はとじこめられているのかな？
たぶんそんなに単純では
ないけれど―

何年も経った
今でも首が痛いよ。

______________________________________________

出典 「おどるかみぶくろ」は2007年発行、Fulcrum (Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA)、
No. 6 に掲載。 「ごめんなさい」はあらびきポエトリが初出。2編とも英語で書かれ
作者によって日訳された。

______________________________________________

Jay Otsuka (大塚滋英) は神奈川県在住の実務・文芸翻訳者。
在米歴14年でボストン在住時英文詩の発表をはじめた。
Twitter http://twitter.com/j_t_o 連絡先 arabiki.poetry@gmail.com

Two Poems by Nathan Hoks

Bread Without Crust

Whenever I see myself
running toward myself
it is myself I am mostly

afraid of but also gray
matter, the grime inside
soap dishes, pencil

shavings (where do
they go ?), dead or dying
flowers. The petals drop,

the stalks droop, the loops
are nothing new just as
the new is nothing

if not a label for soap
boxes. All the walkers walk
in circles, such is the

downward stream of most
beings, rooted or up-.

Hanging the Whale

I am affixing the little whale to the wall.
Ugly wall, ugly whale, ugly hand reaching out
like something in the mind that turns
toward these webs and screens and
absorbs their bloated gamma rays. Whatever

girds girds me well—l feel encircled by
a mountain range that closes over me.
The peaks clasp together, the sky disappears.
A machine is beeping and the little whale
dives into my arms and squeezes me into

myself so I am a small body of water
in a shrinking porous container. A granite
slab of facial expressions rises like the mist
of a pond in the morning. At last I have
found an island in which there is not a single

random occurrence. No dancing bees,
no mumbling bushes of fire bolted
to the walkways. Only a box that will not
open, straight ears of corn, a sky of twilight
cumulous. The whale holds the wall together

and the air moistens. Minutes before
the storm the hair my neighbor grows
tumbles in the breeze and takes the rest
of her head with it. The whale holds together.
The whole street breathes.

———————–
Nathan Hoks’ first book, Reveilles, won Salt Publishing’s 2009 Crashaw Prize. A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, he lives in Somerville, Massachusetts. Contact: nshoks@gmail.com

“Bread Without Crust” first appeared in Eye-Rhyme. “Hanging the Whale” first appeared in Mrs. Maybe. Both poems were also included in Reveilles.
———————–


Nathan Hoks / ARABIKI No. 1
Spring 2011. Co-edited by Akira Kouyama and Jay Otsuka
in collaboration with the Boston Poetry Union.

宮岡絵美HP「生きとし生けるもの、いづれか歌をよまざりける」

宮岡絵美さんのＨＰ 「生きとし生けるもの、いづれか歌をよまざりける」
にリンクしました。

作品「夕暮」　や短歌・エッセイなど多数の読み物が掲載されています。
　

5 Poems by Akira KOUYAMA

stripped-off shrimps
at the storefront
look embarrassed
to be seen by everyone

A Notice

On the way back to my apartment
I noticed an advertisement
on a row of a planting fence
with mikan leaves and fragrant olives
which I always passed by.
It says:
“We are looking for our grandpa.”
He wandered out of home about a week ago
and he’s not back yet.

Not unlike posters on missing dogs and cats
which I have seen numerously
this was my first time to see one for a human.
The family must be spending sleepless nights.
I memorize his face
make sure that I will pay attention
to someone like him.

Time has passed
The ad become aged
washed by rain and wind
And I stopped paying attention.

After a while
I noticed a fresh ad
“Police gave us the report on his whereabouts,”
it said.
He was found lying on a sidewalk in the town
next to us.
“Although the result was a sad one,
the family is relieved by knowing the answer.
We are really grateful for you who read the previous ad
and thought of him.”
Suddenly, I felt responsible
and bowed on the spot.

Then
I noticed a swallowtail caterpillar, lying
alone on the ground at my feet.
I picked it up with a handkerchief
carefully returned it to a leaf of a mikan tree.

Knowledge

Turning your back
to the world
Polish your shoes
By yourself
If you keep doing so
mindlessly
you will notice
the beauty of a cockroach

The Obasan on the Hilltop

A middle-aged lady, an Obasan, was standing on the hilltop.
When her son did his home-visit during his service
he always passed this hill.

Day after day
she was standing at the hilltop
but he never came home.

One night
There was a sound
of someone pounding on the door.
“Look! Look! Your son came back!”
Surprised, all family members came to
to the entrance.
“Look! Please look!”
They looked at the direction the Obasan pointed.

Nobody was there.

After a short pause
Grampa said gently.
“Yes. It’s great. You came home safely, sir. “
“He won’t go anywhere! He will live with mom, that’s what he’s
saying!”
Crying, the Obasan went home cheerfully.

Since then, nobody has seen her.

A Mirror

Stump stump
a hand mirror in her hand
a young woman rushed in to a train
starting makeup
didn’t care about the annoyance around her
the level of irritation among the folks rose up
At last, I spit a spell in my mind
“Drop that stupid mirror.”
So the mirror dropped, indeed
breaking into pieces
I am sorry, I am sorry,
the young lady apologized
collecting the shattered pieces at my feet
I am sorry, I am sorry,
apologized, me also, picking up those pieces

A Handkerchief Dropped

On a subway car—
There was a white handkerchief
with a floral stitch on the floor
in front of me.
A lady dropped it
when she got off the train.
I noticed her dropping it but
I didn’t have much courage to talk to her.
The handkerchief
the passengers got in and out
yet not being stamped
dancing by their feet
fluttering.
After a while, it was
stuck between the closed doors
not able to move anymore
this side of doors at the car
would not open until the last stop.
The train
rapidly
accelerated.
It was as if
the handkerchief was crying in distraction
for the name of the lady.



———————–
About the author. Akira Kouyama is a poet based in Fuchu, Tokyo.
He started to write poems in 2001.

Acknowledgements. Each of the five poems in this issue of Arabiki
appeared originally in Kouyama’s collection Kokoroe (‘Knowledge’),
published in 2009 by Midnight Press. Translated from Japanese by
Jay Otsuka.
———————–
Akira Kouyama / ARABIKI No. 1
Spring 2011. Co-edited by Akira Kouyama and Jay Otsuka
in collaboration with the Boston Poetry Union.

*

こうやまあきら　「こころえ」より

店頭にならんだ
ムキエビは
みんなの視線に
恥ずかしそうです

貼り紙

アパートに帰る途中
貼り紙を見つけた。
いつも通る
ミカンの葉やキンモクセイが
立ち並ぶ垣根に

＜　おじいちゃんをさがしています　＞
と書いてある。
一週間ほどまえにふらりと家を出てしまい
それから戻らないと言うのだ。

犬や猫なら
何度も見たことがあるが人は初めてだ。
家族は眠れぬ夜をすごしているに違いない。
顔写真をしっかり覚えて
似た人がいないか気をつけようと思った。

やがて貼り紙は
雨や風にうたれて
ぼろぼろになっていった。
そのうち気にも留めなくなった。

しばらくたって
貼り紙が新しくなっていた。
＜　警察から遺体の身元確認の連絡がきました　＞
と書いてある。
となり町の歩道橋に倒れていたという。
おじいちゃんと悲しい対面になりましたが
家族としては結果がわかりほっとしています、
貼り紙を見て心配してくださった方たちには
たいへん感謝しております、
と書かれている。

わたしは急に申し訳ない気持ちで一杯になって
その場で頭を下げた。

すると
足もとにポツンと落ちている
アゲハ蝶の幼虫が目に入った。
そいつをハンカチですくい上げて
もといたミカンの葉っぱにそっと帰してやった。

こころえ

世間に背を向け
ひとり靴を磨きます

ひたすら磨き続けると
ゴキブリの美しさに気づきます

坂の上のおばさん

おばさんが坂の上に立っていた。
戦争に行った息子が帰ってくるときは
必ずこの坂を通るからだ。

くる日もくる日も
坂の上に立っていたが
息子は帰ってこなかった。

ある晩
玄関の戸を叩く音がした。
｢　見てください！見てください！
息子が帰ってきたんですよ！　｣
驚いて家族全員が玄関へ出た。
｢　見てください！ほら！　｣
おばさんが指をさした方を見た。

そこには誰もいなかった。

すこし間をおいて

おじいちゃんがやさしく言った。
｢　本当だ、よかったなあ、ご無事だったんですねえ　｣
｢　どこにも行かないよって！これからは母さんと一緒に
暮らすよって、言ってるんですよ！　｣
おばさんは泣きながらはしゃいで帰っていった。

それからおばさんの姿は見えなくなった。

かがみ

どかどか
鏡を片手に
わかい女性が電車に乗り込んできて
化粧をはじめる
まわりの迷惑などおかまいなしで
いらいらがつのる

ついに心の中で呪いの言葉をはく
＜　鏡を落としてしまえ　＞

そしたらほんとに
鏡が落ちてくだけ散った

すみません、すみません、
女性は頭をさげて
わたしの足元に散らばった破片を拾う

すみません、すみません、
わたしも頭をさげて破片を拾った

______________________________________________

出典 ミッドナイト・プレス（２００９）刊 「神山倫詩集こころえ」

______________________________________________

こうやまあきら：２００１年から詩を書きはじめ２００９年に
ミッドナイト・プレスより第1詩集「神山倫詩集こころえ」を刊行
東京都府中市在住。
ブログ http://d.hatena.ne.jp/akira-kami/

About ARABIKI

ARABIKI International Journal of Poetry （あらびきポエトリ）is a PDF-based periodical of poetry, co-edited by Akira Kouyama and Jay Otsuka in collaboration with Nora Delaney and Zachary Bos (the Boston Poetry Union.) Printed copies will be available in some bookstores in Boston, Seattle, and New York. Contact: Jay Otsuka – arabiki.poetry@gmail.com or http://www.facebook.com/jay.otsuka

I Was Dazzled by the Morning Light…by Sayaka Ohsaki

I was dazzled by the morning light so I couldn’t breathe
I folded papers without thinking anything
A paper turtle, a paper swan, a paper squirrel,
A paper shrimp, a paper camel and a paper frilled-lizard
Came out
A frilled-lizard was level five
First, I folded a piece of paper in half
Then folded it to the center along the dotted line
Again folded it to the center on the line and open it
Fold and fold and fold and fold and fold and fold
I just wanted to escape from the dazzle

I was always folding
Full of the morning light inserted from the window
My hands never stopped folding
A paper cicada came out
A paper crab came out
A paper balloon-rabbit came out
I folded their feeders
Then folded their bubblers
Folded a tree for the cicada to stay
Folded a rock for the crab to hide
And then folded air for balloon-rabbit to bulge

My hands never stopped folding
Though full of the morning light inserted from the window
I kept folding
I didn’t care if the skin of my fingers peeled off or bled
I didn’t care if my nails cracked and fell off
But my skin didn’t peel off, no cracks on my fingernails
Never even bled after all
I couldn’t fold them that hard

The sound of folding paper was irritating me
I covered up my ears
I tried to fold with my hands shutting my ears and failed
I had to make a choice
Shut up my ears or fold a paper
I decided to fold and started folding again
Though there was jarring sound of folding paper I put up with it
Folded a piano putting up with it
Folded a bed putting up with it
Folded a mug putting up with it
The dazzle of the morning light was diminished
The sound of folding those papers got larger and larger and
echoed
I wanted to cover my ears but my hands were occupied
I wanted somebody to cover my ears, anybody could
I cried out for somebody
Somebody, Somebody, Somebody,
I was just calling out loud and folding paper
Folded a shirt out loud
Folded a skirt out loud
Folded a child out loud
I kept folding and folding and folding

And then
Somebody’s hands covered my ears
The sound of folding papers stopped
In a moment I
Fell asleep

There was no more sound of folding papers
I felt I was lucky and kept folding
My hands and my ears were filled up
My hands and ears were satisfied
I was relieved
Only the morning light
I was dazzled by the morning light so I couldn’t breathe

______________________________________________

About the author. Sayaka Ohsaki is a poet living in Tokyo, born in
1982. In 2011, she was honored with a New Face Award from the
Tokyo-based journal of poetry and criticism, Eureka, published by
Seidosha. She is a graduate of Waseda University.

Acknowledgements. Translated from Japanese (“Watachi ha asahi ga
mabushiku te…”) by the author. This poem appeared originally in
May 2007 in the monthly poetry magazine Gendaishi-techo,
published by the Tokyo publisher Shichosha.

______________________________________________

Sayaka Ohsaki / ARABIKI No. 1
Spring 2011. Co-edited by Akira Kouyama and Jay Otsuka
in collaboration with the Boston Poetry Union.

*

わたしは朝日が眩しくて……
大崎清夏

わたしは朝日が眩しくてくるしかった
ただもうなにもかんがえずに紙を折った
折り紙のかめと折り紙のつると折り紙のりすと
折り紙のえびと折り紙のらくだと折り紙の
えりまきとかげ
が出来た
えりまきとかげは難しさ星五つだった
まず半分に折る
まんなかにむけて点線で折る
もういちどまんなかにむけて点線で折ってひらく
折って折って折って折って折って折って
ただもうわたしはくるしさからのがれたかった

わたしはいつも折っていた
朝日が窓からいっぱいに射しこんだ
わたしの折る手は止まらなかった
折り紙のせみが出来た
折り紙のかにが出来た
折り紙のふうせんうさぎが出来た
わたしはかれらのえさばこを折った
それからかれらのみずのみばを折った
せみのとまる木を折った
かにのかくれる岩を折った
それからふうせんうさぎをふくらます空気を折った

わたしの折る手は止まらなかった
朝日が窓からいっぱいに射しこんでいたが
わたしは折りつづけた
ゆびがこすれて皮がむけて血が出てもいいとおもった
爪がわれて机にあたってはがれてもいいと思った
けれどもゆびもむけなかったし爪もわれなかった
血なんかでなかった
わたしはそうまでして折れなかった

紙の折れる音が耳障りだった
わたしは耳をふさいだ
耳をふさいだ手で折ろうとして失敗した
耳をふさぐか折るかふたつにひとつだった
わたしは折ることにした
そうしてまた折りはじめた
紙の折れる音が耳障りだったががまんした
がまんしてピアノを折った
がまんしてベッドを折った
がまんしてゆのみを折った
朝日の眩しさはやわらいでいた
紙の折れる音はますます大きくなりひびいた
耳をふさぎたかったが手があいていなかった
誰でもいいからこの耳をふさいでほしかった
わたしは誰かを呼んだ
誰か、誰か、誰か、
ただもう大声で呼びながら紙を折った
大声でシャツを折った
大声でスカートを折った
大声でやっこさんを折った
折って折って折りつづけた

すると
やがて誰かの手がわたしの耳をふさいだ
紙の折れる音がやんだ
わたしは一瞬
うとうとした

紙の折れる音はもう聞こえなかった
わたしはコレサイワイと折りつづけた
わたしの手と耳はふさがっていた
わたしの手と耳はみちたりていた
わたしはあんしんした
ただ朝日が
朝日が眩しくてくるしかった

______________________________________________

初出：現代詩手帖（思潮社）2007年5月号 投稿欄

Fukushima Is Us: The Gravels of Poetry from Fukushima, Ryoichi Wago, and Yuichi Sato

The Gravels of Poetry is a series of poems from/for Fukushima by Ryoichi WAGO on his Twitter account, started immediately after the Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami. Wondering, “Is there anything I can do useful by uttering my words?” Wago tweeted about 40 pieces of poems as a first dispatch on March 16, 2011 and named those as The Gravels of Poetry (Shi no tsubute.) (Asahi Shinbun, March 29, 2011)

<Radiation is falling. A calm-calm night. > <What does this disaster want to teach us? If these are no such things, all the worse, what should we believe in?> <Only tears are where I ended up. I would like to write like a god of wrath. > (Asahi Shinbun, March 29, 2011, quoting Wago’s twitter account.)

The words of Wago resonated with the many: Wago now has over 10,000 followers; Gravels of Poetry was covered by various media including newspapers Yomiuri, Mainichi, Nihon Keizai, Tokyo-shinbuns and others; Yasuhide Ito, Tokuhide Niimi, and (Yoshihide Otomo- a discussion ongoing) have composed songs as the Gravels of Poetry lyrics. The two pieces of poems below were covered by the Tokyo TV on April 19, 2011. Link-(Unavailable) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITn9vYGGvm4

“Fukushima is us. We are Fukushima. Those who have evacuated, who are about to leave our hometown with agonizing pain, please make sure to come back. We must not lose Fukushima. We must not lose Tohoku. Enduring the depth of the nights, the wideness of the darkness, and the coldness of the predawn hours. I will never forget them for the rest of my life. No night will last forever. “

*

“Whether the gas will run out, a life will run out, a heart will run out, the time will run out, a road will run out. Will I, also, become a wrath and frenzy of passion and head toward the ocean? Kuyashii, kuyashii, kuyashii, to the ocean, kuyashii, to the ocean, to the ocean.”

[Kuyashii= frustrated, deeply regretful]

________________________________________________

Ryoichi WAGO is a poet who was born in Fukushima in 1968. He is everywhere: he won the 4th Chuya Nakahara Prize for his first poetry book, After in 1998 and the 47th Bansui Prize for his fourth poetry book Earth Brain Psalms in 2006. Being a high school teacher, he is also known as a lyricist and radio personality. (Space Poem Chain, 2009) His further biography is:http://www7.jsforum.or.jp/space2009/message_pop20_e.html

Twitter account: http://twitter.com/wago2828 (Japanese)

________________________________________________

Yuichi SATO was born in Sapporo, Hokkaido, in 1983. He won the Gendaishi-Techo New Face Award in 2006. Sato’s poems and criticism were published in numbers of periodicals, including Gendaishi-techo, Eureka Poetry and Criticism, Ulysses (music magazine), Movies and Arts, and Waseda Literature Magazine.

Some of his poems are translated into English:

http://aabk.wordpress.com/2011/04/20/yuichi-sato/
http://aabk.wordpress.com/2011/04/21/gendaisea/

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Sato has been hosting a series of open-mic reading events that embrace rap music, poetry, tanka, haiku, and anything else, called the Bottle/Exercise/Cypher. Web address–http://d.hatena.ne.jp/CAMPCYPHER

Sato will host the Cypher Poetry Reading (forming a ring and reading poetry) with some guests including Ryoichi Wago, at 16:00 (JST) on April 29, 2011 in Tokyo and elsewhere (in your town, in your local times.) Please host a reading; it’s easy and at least one participant for each group will be enough.

–Jay OTSUKA, arabiki.poetry@gmail.com

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Update on May 31, 2011:
Now you can read the Pebbles of Poetry (Excerpt), translated by Jeffrey Angles. http://www.shichosha.co.jp/gendaishitecho/item_406.html

The Gendai Sea by Yuichi Sato (The Contemporary Sea of Poetry)

Have you been to an amusement park? If you have not, maybe it is a good idea to ask your family to take you to one on the next holiday. An amusement park is a fun place where you can do many kinds of fun stuff. For example, I went to the “Tokyo Disney Sea” the other day. There, you can go on a quick cruise in the European-like, beautiful old canal, play with the characters here and there, and enjoy the excitement of riding a car (called a roller-coaster) rolling down hills at full speed. I bubbled over a bit too much and got really tired. You’re right; the difference between playing in the amusement park, reading comic books and watching cartoons is that your body gets tired. Unlike the comic books and cartoons, you can’t just lie around and watch in the amusement park. It is a place where you can’t have fun unless you are active and move your body.

Now, let me introduce you to a slightly different kind of amusement park. It is called the Gendai Sea. Although it sounds a bit similar to the “Disney Sea,” they are similar only in their names. This is an amusement park that requires you to make a little bit harder effort to enjoy being there. First, you need to find the entrance of the Gendai Sea. It may be a park in your neighborhood, a bookshop, or a hospital. When you think you find one, it might only be a map that shows the location of the entrance. In addition, the map is awfully difficult to read. And I’m absolutely sure that there will be old guys and women showing up, saying that the act of searching for an entrance itself is the “Gendai Sea,” a nonsense, trying to confuse you.

But when you neatly find the entrance and get inside the amusement park, you see an unworldly huge world there. When you are new there, you only understand that the place is really huge. Until you get used to being there, you can only see that place as anything but nonsense. You may be bombarded by the strange feeling that makes you feel as if you are on a roller-coaster. You think that you are in the world of the afterlife at first glance. But rest assured; you are not dead. Rather, the ones who are dead are the characters called poets, hovering around you.

Poets drift around you with their wicked rhythms. The one that stands out the most is the character(s) called “Ryuichi Tamura(s).” At least five of the “Ryuichi Tamuras” are in your sight, wobbling around with their large bottles of liquor in their hands. Let’s talk to one of them. Then he cries out, “For a piece of poem to be born, I must kill the numbers of Ryuichi Tamuras!” and the rest of the four go “pow!” and vanish.

You might wonder, “You said Ryuichi Tamuras have to die, and the four indeed disappeared, but how come you are still here?” Ryuichi Tamura answers, “Shall I tell you the truth? Although I pretend to be Ryuichi Tamura, I am not Ryuichi Tamura.” Another sound of “pow!” and the “Ryuichi Tamura” turns into a “Shuntaro Tanikawa.” The “Shuntaro Tanikawa” dances and starts to sing “Neriri, Kiruru, Harara.”

You dance, too. And you learn how to enjoy this amusement park bit by bit. In this ridiculously huge and nonsensical world, a poet makes her own amusement park by herself. How does she do it? A poet makes a gloomy face and conveys rhythms to another gloomy-faced poet, utilizing words, dance, and anything else. If it works well, the rhythms turn to a tangible figure in the head of the other poet, who is listening to her rhythm. It could a roller-coaster, a carousel, several puppets with really dazzling lights, a town, or the sky. It turns to reality and becomes a part of the Gendai Sea. So that all parts of the Gendai Sea are made of the rhythms of poets. You are surrounded by the rhythms. They are always unstable. So you feel as if you are riding a roller-coaster. The Gendai Sea dances. You dance, too.

Then, you get tired after dancing. “I’m tired. I can’t dance anymore.” You tell the poets about it via the rhythm and create an exit. Now you are off the exit, there is a light from your room. You only need to jump into it. You fully enjoy lying down on a sheet which has absorbed the fragrance of the sun. You are really worn out. Your head is tired. The Gendai Sea is the amusement park you can only enjoy if you use your body and head. Now you’ve used your body and head; you can sleep comfortably and have a good dream. Actually, that dream is the most interesting and beautiful. But let’s keep it for the next time.

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[Translator’s note: “Sea” sounds similar to “Shi” (poem) in Japanese. This piece contains some voices of the poets Shuntaro Tanikawa (Toba) and Ryuichi Tamura (Four Thousand Days and Nights.)]

Originally published in TOLTA’S Textbook of the Japanese Language: The Book of Adventure (トルタの国語 冒険の書) as “Gendai Sea (現代シー)”, December 2010. Publisher: TOLTA, Tokyo, Japan.

Yuichi SATO (佐藤雄一) is a semi-member of the Gendai Sea. He was born in Sapporo, Hokkaido, in 1983. He won the Gendaishi-Techo New Face Award in 2006. Sato’s poems and criticism were published in numbers of periodicals, including Gendaishi-techo, Eureka Poetry and Criticism, Ulysses (music magazine), Movies and Arts, and Waseda Literature Magazine.

Sato has been hosting a series of the open-mic reading events that embraces rap music, poetry, tanka, haiku, and anything else, called the Bottle/Exercise/Cypher. Web address- http://d.hatena.ne.jp/CAMPCYPHER

Translation: Jay Otsuka

For you who are reading this by Yuichi SATO

1 second
2 seconds
3 seconds
4 seconds
5 seconds
6 seconds
7 seconds
8 seconds
9 seconds
10 seconds
11 seconds
12 seconds
13 seconds
14 seconds
15 seconds
Time goes on even when you are silent
17 seconds
18 seconds
19 seconds
Time pulsates transparently
When you say good morning
Transparently gurgling
When you say good bye
Transparently gurgling
When you are reading this poem
Transparently gurgling
When you are not reading this poem
Transparently gurgling
Time pulsates
Pulsates soundlessly
31 seconds
32 seconds
33 seconds
Gurgling
A heart that doesn’t belong to anybody pulsates
Even without any musical instrument
Transparently
Even without any rhythm
Transparently
Even without any music
Transparently
Pulsates
43 seconds
44 seconds
45 seconds
Even without me
Transparently gurgling
Even without this poem
Transparently gurgling
Even without Japan
Transparently gurgling
Even without the earth
Transparently gurgling
Even without the universe
Transparently gurgling
Time keeps on pulsating
Just like your heart (you who are right in front of me)
Pulsates
Here is the pulsation
61 seconds
62 seconds
63 seconds
Your heart which I don’t know
Pulsates
Your heart which created me
Pulsates
Your heart which I love
Pulsates
Your heart to which I want to deliver my voice
In other words, like your heart which reads this poem right now
Pulsates
Here is the pulsation
74 seconds
78 seconds
79 seconds
The facial expression of your heartbeat
Toward the ethereal facial expression of the heartbeat
Strain my ears
82 seconds
83 seconds
84 seconds
For you who can’t be reached from here even by the loud voice
For you who can’t be reached even by the bright light
Only
For you who can be reached only with quiet voices
In other words, you who are reading this poem
I greet you
I strain my ears as if I were greeting you
Transparently gurgling
Pulsates
Here is the pulse
95 seconds
96 seconds
97 seconds
I have a greeting to pass on to you even if time vanishes
Giving rise to the heartbeats
Crafting poetry as if you were giving rise to the heartbeats
Clumsy hands
Also your
Gurgling
Transparently

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Yuichi SATO (佐藤雄一) was born in Sapporo, Hokkaido, in 1983. He won the Gendaishi-Techo New Face Award in 2006. Sato’s poems and criticism were published in numbers of periodicals, including Gendaishi-techo, Eureka Poetry and Criticism, Ulysses (music magazine), Movies and Arts, and Waseda Literature Magazine.

Sato has been hosting a series of the open-mic reading events that embraces rap music, poetry, tanka, haiku, and anything else, called the Bottle/Exercise/Cypher. Web address- http://d.hatena.ne.jp/CAMPCYPHER

Translation: Jay Otsuka

[Worldwide Event] Gravels of Poetry: The Cypher Poetry Readings for Fukushima [pls spread]

Gravels of Poetry: The Cypher Poetry Readings for Fukushima

We would like to express our deepest sympathy and concern for those who have been affected by the Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami.

The Cypher Poetry Reading (forming a ring and reading poetry) will be held with a special guest, Ryoichi WAGO, a poet in Fukushima, at 16:00 (JST) on April 29, 2011 in Tokyo. Still residing in his native Fukushima, Ryoichi has been active on the frontline of the Japanese poetry scene across a variety of media platforms. He has been expressing his caring thoughts for Fukushima, hugely devastated by the earthquake and the nuclear crisis, through his “Gravels of Poetry” on his Twitter account: http://twitter.com/wago2828 – (Japanese)

Although we had originally planned to host the Cypher in Fukushima, the radiation issue forced us to refrain from the outdoor activities. However, wishing that someday the poems will be “sung” without restrictions all over Fukushima, we will host the Cypher in Tokyo and everywhere in the world.

Ryoichi used to say, “I want to make one-third of the people of Fukushima to become poets.” It seems to me that his line is particularly important right now, under such circumstances.

Why? Jean-Paul Sartre once asked, “Is literature useless facing the starving children?” Even in the face of huge disaster, however, it shall become a robust encouragement for survival if we weave poems with “words” which are inalienable until the end and custom-fit them to invaluable “you.” I dare say that utterance of a poem can be a smallest yet surely encouraging beacon which even “starving children” can possess. We would like to offer little prayers of poetry from all over the world so that the people in Fukushima would spontaneously resonate with their poetry and make Fukushima resonate itself, now and later on.

Based on these, we have a request for you. We ask you to get together to form a ring in your town and read your own or your favorite poems out loud on April 29. A few people will do. It could be at home, in a park, even on the streets. (If your group become large, contact the park authorities or nearest police station.) It will be appreciated if you will read the poems while thinking of Fukushima. If it’s possible, please solicit for donations and send them to your local Red Cross.

For your participation, send emails to Yuichi SATO (yy_sato [at] hotmail.co.jp) that include: (1) Names of the hosts, (2) Locations (optionally, addresses and maps), (3) Exact date and time of the event in your local time, (4) Messages to Fukushima, (5) Contact information, (6) The URL addresses of your Ustream broadcasts (optional.) We will publish them on http://d.hatena.ne.jp/CAMPCYPHER/ with our appreciation. It would be greatly appreciated if you notify us of the amount of donation upon completion of your events. We believe that a poem is the “words that make you (who received them) a poet.” Wishing that you will make somebody a poet, and that many beautiful poems will resonate in your town, and that poems will resonate in Fukushima as in yours.

Yuichi SATO (佐藤雄一・Bottle/Exercise/Cypher)

Supported by: Shichosha (思潮社)