Face at the Bottom of the World and Other Poems

Face on the backside of the area and different Poems is a suite of jap poetry via grasp poet, Hagiwara Sakutaro.

Hagiwara Sakutaro (1886-1942) is usually famous in Japan because the top poet to have emerged on account that touch was once re-established with the skin global. His paintings represents the incredible success within the poetic box of basic Meiji exercise to mix "Western studying with the japanese spirit." He and maybe he on my own, have effectively mixed the lyric depth attribute of the fast sorts of conventional jap poetry with the liberty of size, shape and rhythm which characterizes the poetry of the West. In him East and West, regardless of Kipling's dictum, have certainly met; and from him the longer term poets of either traditions have a lot to learn.

For the entire startling good looks and originality of his paintings, Hagiwara is still a poet of the darkish. Shiveringly delicate to loveliness in all its million modes, he reveals it not just in its commonly used haunts yet even in such unforeseen topics as rotten calm or the useless physique of an alcoholic. a guy intensely acutely aware that the solar, that image of Japan, rises as a lot to forged shadows as to offer light.

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With blood congealed, translucent, blue; center warped and many-angled; With rotten guts and wrists frayed via Rheumatically; with sticky tangled Orts unfold wetly all over; The shining flooring is brilliant. The grass is sharp as shattered glass And every little thing is shining With radium's eerie mild. panorama of melancholy, panorama with the moon declining. Ah, in one of these lonely position The whitish murderer's putting face Laughs like a shimmer within the grass. 贈物にそへて WITH a present a few probably so malign one of the firing-party As aimed yet to say no The bull's-eye of his middle. but, whilst the magpied guy, lifeless, to his dream-life drifted, The skies with rancor ran. this can be that sort of reward. 卵 EGGS excessive between twigs, mild on their tiny tining, The small eggs shine, halos on heaven's cabinets: And, taking a look up, we see the birds' nests shining And are aware of it time for easters of ourselves. 閑雅な食慾 dependent urge for food strolling in a pine-wood. I got here on a restaurant. Too faraway from city for viewers, Tucked woodily away, It used to be, as I bring it to mind, either reticent and homosexual. And there a lady whose demeanour wore Love's shyness and. its delight Set out one plate as fresh as day And one brilliant fork beside and taken, to form my urge for food, An omelette and issues fried. The white clouds floated overhead, And nonetheless their shadows shine As I keep in mind beauty, As I take a seat to dine Who be aware of there is now no urge for food extra stylish than mine. 艷めかしい墓揚 ENCHANTEN GRAVEYARD From the path of the viewing-stand Come faintly tepid, stanked saltwater smells. The willows shimmy within the wind. the place else, As slugs move slowly up, black gland on glistening gland, The moon-sharp hedge, might, this type of dumping- flooring, So gloom-engorged a cemetery be discovered? O unusual girl-shadow, eco-friendly and gentle, light eco-friendly, a mouldering of the ambience, For what wan function are you wandered right here, who're now not shellfish, pheasant, even cat, the typical Kindred of this sullen coast, yet a trifling lonely, a so much lonely, ghost? From the golf green shadow of your drifting mort waft smells of rotten fish, the stink of 1 Whose guts have melted pulpy within the sunlight On a few backstreet in a few negative fishing-port: unhappy wrenching odor, and. vile past all wrench, The scent of grief; insufferable sorrow's stench. what's it, then, you're who, this spring evening As spring evening tepid, tenuously pass gentle as a more youthful sister, kimono Trailing its charmed shiny red? it's not The graveyard's moonlight, phosphorescences, Shadow or fact. yet simply how unhappy it truly is. in simple terms how unhappy it's. for so and hence My lifestyles and physique, clammy as rainy clay, To meld with yours rot clammily away. The veils of putrefaction smoke for us; And into nothingness, that imprecise morass, My being slithers from its final sadly. 亀 TURTLE Woods, swamps and the cobalt Sky-carapace, sky-vault. Heavy to human arms The 24-karat gold turtle sleeps Whose quiet shining weight Weighs at the brain extra deeply The extra one thinks and thinks Of quietude innate, The extra one is aware Man's animal property.

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