Skip to content

Jeffrey Angles – III

 The Man of the Thread


                 For Hiromi Ito





This afternoon when I left home

I tied my pinky to a tree in the garden

So I would not get lost along the way

As I walk, the knot does not come undone

Instead what comes undone is me

Skin, bones, tangled blood vessels

Spun into thread to mark the way


Transparent thread marking my footsteps

I reach the entrance to the mountains

The light of the sun slowly descends

Leaking through the leaves, dancing on the ground

Drawn in, I climb further and further

At some point, my footfalls grow lighter

My body having grown thinner by half


The mountain azaleas bloom wildly before me

I glimpse the lofty summit through the branches

No matter how much I walk, I will not reach it

There is just the smallest part of me left

Should I keep walking or should I return?

The shadows grow deep around me

But it is already too late today


How far can I go?

When do I cease to be me?

There is a comfort in heading home

As I turn back, the thread I have left is shining

As it runs across the floor of darkness













今日の午後 家を出るとき



歩き出してからも 結び目は解かない

代わりに 解くのは自分自身

道を示すために 皮膚 骨




ようやく 山の入り口に来る



それに誘われて 奥へ登っていく

いつか半分に細った体は 軽くなり



前に 岩つつじが咲き乱れる


いくら歩いても 着かない


歩きつづける? それとも戻る?

身の周りに 陰が濃くなっている

しかし 今日は もう 遅すぎる


わたしは どこまで行けるのか

いつ 自分が自分ではなくなるのか

戻ることには 安らぎがある

振り返ると わたしの残した糸は

闇の底を走って 光っている