Kitamura taro / 北村太郎-Ⅷ
A Man of the Port-33-
Something is dripping.
Water?
I don’t want to get out of bed in darkness and find out what.
If not water,
what could it be?
A dream holds many answers.
Today was calm.
It rained all day
till darkness fell outside the window.
Though there was no wind
by night-time the rain had slowly stopped falling.
How long ago was it
I felt as if I were holding onto a saddle
and kicking the ground?
Of course the sky was blue
and it seemed as if
that’s what the water was for.
I never imagined so much sweat could drip
from my lover’s entire body.
Holding a glass, my fingers
looked ashen.
That’s
water.
It can’t be anything else.
If not,
what couldn’t it be?
However many answers a dream might hold,
they couldn’t be any other color.
I hope tomorrow’s weather
will be the same color.
All poems by Kitamura Taro. Translated by William I. Elliott and Kawamura Kazuo.
Something is dripping.
Water?
I don’t want to get out of bed in darkness and find out what.
If not water,
what could it be?
A dream holds many answers.
Today was calm.
It rained all day
till darkness fell outside the window.
Though there was no wind
by night-time the rain had slowly stopped falling.
How long ago was it
I felt as if I were holding onto a saddle
and kicking the ground?
Of course the sky was blue
and it seemed as if
that’s what the water was for.
I never imagined so much sweat could drip
from my lover’s entire body.
Holding a glass, my fingers
looked ashen.
That’s
water.
It can’t be anything else.
If not,
what couldn’t it be?
However many answers a dream might hold,
they couldn’t be any other color.
I hope tomorrow’s weather
will be the same color.
All poems by Kitamura Taro. Translated by William I. Elliott and Kawamura Kazuo.
