朝はブラインドの影にしばられていた
The morning
was tied up in the shadows
of the blinds
ふと父の真似を子が爪をかむ
Imitating his father
a child chews his nails
深夜の細い針が血管探している
In the middle of the night
a thin needle
searches for a blood vessel
うすい胸に吸い込んだ冷たいレントゲンだ
Breathed into
my thin lungs,
cold x-rays
どこまでも寒い青空が続く
the cold blue sky goes on
as far as I can see
青空に並んで冷たい墓となる石
lined up against the blue sky
cold graves made from stone
淋しさきしませて雨あがりのブランコ
loneliness
creaks
a swing
after rain
誰もいない壁に近くすわる
there’s no one here
I sit close to the wall
握りしめた夜に咳こむ
in the seized night
a coughing fit
自殺願望、メラメラと燃える火がある
wanting to kill myself,
an all-consuming fire
さめて思い出せない不安な夢
I wake up
and can’t remember
my anxious dreams
手が汗ばんでいる夢を見ていた
my hands are sweating
from the dream I had
聞こえない鳥が鳴いているという
unable to hear
it is said
the birds still sing
春にはと思う心に早い桜
spring is I think
early cherry blossoms
in the heart
窓に病人ばかりが耐えている冬空
the window is full
of sick people enduring
winter sky
冷たい朝をゆく健康な人の背ばかり
going away in the cold morning
the backs of healthy people only
NOTES:
Sumitaku Kenshin (1961-1987) was a haiku poet who practiced free-form haiku (自由律俳句). He died of acute myelocytic leukemia before his 26th birthday. In his lifetime, he only self-published one volume of poetry, but the free-form haiku magazine Kaishi (海市) published a number of his poems. After his death, much of his work was collected in a volume called Unfinished (未完成).
Poems taken from kaishi-haiku.com.
月、静かに氷枕がくずれる
moon,
silently
my ice pack
collapses
病んでこんなにもやせた月窓に置く
sick as I am
thin
the moon in my window
エレベーターの顔の中のひとつの顔
a face
inside the face
of the elevator
面会謝絶の戸を開けて冬がくる
open the door that says
NO VISITORS
and winter comes in
窓に雨がけむる明日への不安
rain fogs up the window
anxiety about tomorrow
病んでいる耳に死を告げられた
I am ill
death ringing
in my ears
一人だけの淋しい物音たてている
all alone
lonely sounds
surround me
ひとかたまりの影を離れる
letting go
a cluster of shadows
病室を出て秋の山呼吸している
leaving the hospital room
autumn mountains
breathing
朝月残る昨日のこと考えている
morning
the moon is still here
thinking about yesterday
雨音、夜の池深く落ちる
sound of rain,
falls deeply in
the night pond
NOTES:
Sumitaku Kenshin (1961-1987) was a haiku poet who practiced free-form haiku (自由律俳句).
Picture and poems taken from kaishi-haiku.com.
ずぶぬれて犬ころ
soaking
wet
puppy
春風の重い扉だ
spring wind’s
heavy door
月が冷い音落とした
the moon let fall
a cold sound
水音、冬が来ている
sound of water,
winter is on its way
一人の灯をあかあかと点けている
one person’s light
brightly lit
立ち上がればよろめく星空
when I stand
staggering
starry night
焼け跡のにごり水流れる
muddy water flows
from the burned out rubble
風ひたひたと走り去る人の廊下
wind rushes
down
the corridor
月明かり、青い咳する
moonlight,
pale coughing
冬の長い影おとして歩く
winter’s long shadow
falls
and
moves
NOTES:
Sumitaku Kenshin (1961-1987) was the pen-name of Sumitaku Harumi (住宅春美).
In the seventies, he read a lot of poetry and books about religion and philosophy, and, interested in Buddhism, he started taking correspondence courses through the Central Buddhism Academy (中央仏教学院) in 1982. After completing the coursework the following year, he became a monk at Nishihongan Temple (西本願寺), where he changed his name to Kenshin.
In 1984, he was hospitalized with acute myelocytic leukemia (急性骨髄性白血病). Four months later, his wife gave birth to a son, but, because her husband’s illness was incurable, she soon divorced him at the request of her parents, and Kenshin took responsibility for the boy and began raising him in his hospital room.
That October, he discovered free-form haiku, and he decided to start writing his own. He was especially fond of the work of Ozaki Hosai.
In 1985, Kenshin self-published The Experimental Notebook (試作帳), but his condition grew worse over the next year.
At 11:23 p.m. on February 7, 1987, Kenshin passed away. He was 25 years old. Although he was a haiku poet for less than three years, he left behind 281 poems. The year after his death, a collection of his work, Unfinished (未完成), was published.
All poems translated here were found at kaishi-haiku.com.
若さとはこんな淋しい春なのか
Youth is
a kind of
lonely spring
夜が淋しくて誰かが笑いはじめた
The night was lonesome
Then someone started laughing
Entry No. 1 