Poetry of Tadami Yamada(2)
The Morning
Morning jump in my mouth
Kiss of light
Taste of mint verve
The spring comes in depth
Awakening gift
The fragrance of love
Lily
A lily blooms
Downs by head
Among tombs
The Bird of Peace
Some lecture meeting in a place open air.
One of the leaders before citizens
Gave a long speaking on 'PEACE'
And then, set free a thousand doves in the air;
Dove, you know, the 'symbol' of 'PEACE';
Said 'To give our wishing to the bird---'
Pointed at the sky under citizens' ear.
Opportunely, a hot dung fell on just his head.
As to go to the root of 'the bird of Peace' is just only bird.
'Symbol is neither here nor there,
The most important matter must be here!'
Said a thousand doves, the birds in the air.
Obstinateness
I don't know what makes me to long for the past,
Giving a painful sigh as deep as mist.
My lips are burning hot in the fire of thirst.
I dread the setting sun to fall down,
Gulping me down down down.
I'm still a life afloat, but can't lay down.
Such my life, such my heart, harder than ever.
I'm getting ill with fever.
I'm getting ill in my thinking.
Why adhere myself to old thought;
Shabby, pitiful, mean appearance
Being coated with tears and dust?
A painful obstinateness,
A stupid obstinateness,
It's that I can't abandon hollowness.
Small Window
Wipe my window clean
Put my fingerprint on it
O! sorrow
Shut the breeze of early summer
Only imagine of love on a finger
O! imagine
Being in sorrow
Break my window
O! window
I Am
I wish to be at least charitable face,
If I could do nothing for sorry case
Do you want to know about numbers of the sand on the beach?
Apply paste on your palm.
Crawl around like a worm.
Pick up, count up grains of the sand.
With taking care of it dropping down.
Don't hallow scattered food like cheep.
Ah! man, Be you with keeping your cool!
Don't follow strange orders like sheep.
Ah! man, Be not you considerably fool!
Apply paste on your palm.
Crawl around like a corm.
Pick up, count up grains of the sand.
With taking care of cajolery of the gown.
Melancholy Beast
The night train melancholy beast:
The whistles like a blast,
shaking sleeping people awake,
letting pitch-darkness snake,
comes from a long distance,
dead away remaining a reminiscence.
Then people wanna love for other!
Hunger becomes a part of their loneliness:
The olds wail over in longing younger;
Their hearts are bursting with sad queer.
Frightening shout, browing at teddy,
Carnal desires rise from dry up body.
To scoop seething tears in both palms of hands,
Raise them in the calm as before of the night.
A pearl rolling down from finger slits of hand,
reflects red and small spots of the tail-light.
Ah! the night train melancholy beast;
The herald of love's tragedy, it is.
A Song of Night
Old well-like this night.
To prick up my ears and mind,
I can slightly hear sounds that,
Someone take a cigarette off from lips,
Pickles are well seasoned in the distance.
In some how sluggish deep darkness,
Half broken wellbacket is hanging down,
As if waiting for something to happen.
Seventeen's Journey
The night train carrying sorrowful him
is running through strange winter towns
and is going through withered downs.
In this early morn at a country station
He walked the platform bosoming a Boston-
bag, murmuring, counting paving stones,
having fits of coughing for used desperation.
Some would tell him, 'It's because of young',
Whatever meant encouraging or bantering,
Or one's self-scorn?
'Sure I'm seventeen' he said, and dumped
the blunt word which couldn't even ruin him.
'Keep Out!'
'Don't Enter with Shoues on Me!'
He put up notice boards on the front gate
of his mind, but couldn't cast his empty bag.
He had nowhere to go though,
passes now through several pitch-darkness.
The day dawns, it comes again.
Sky lies its gigantic figure down over him,
neverthless it doesn't grant his love token.
To love, to know the world and
his intention of running up to the sky
are the same to him, and
are inseparable from each other!
So every eary morn he is in a train
going on a sorroful journey about winter town.
Monkey's hand
I can't bear, I can't bear
Playing fool, making fan
I can't bear if I wouldn't do so.
Wearing old leather gloves
My hands look like monkey's hand.
Just as to be a monkey.
Will I stay to look up brilliant sky
On a tree in crying?
I can't bear, I can't bear
Playing fool, making fan
I can't bear if I wouldn't do so.
Wearing old meager loves
My heart is like a dry bord.
Just say another crunchy.
Will I peep into the dark hall
Of my dream in weeping?
I can't bear, I can't bear
Playing fool, making fan
I can't bear if I wouldn't do so.
Pairing old monkeis up
My skill is like the arrow of Cupid.
Just I'm an ape(able) man.
Will I reel a reel till to fall
On a tree in laughing?
Festival
The festival has been made preparations the day before
The festival has made preparations from a month ago
The bririant vigorous meeting was so;
No,no, it had already been prepared since old time
It is a day in the middle of summer
It is a day such tears coming for some other
It is one day on my way of journey
'As it's the festival' said a father
'As it's the festival' said his daughter
Flowers of ornamental hair pin are
Overflowing from dressrd childly hair.
I am seeing flowery people enjoying
Beautiful paper lanterns are shaking.
I am impressed by the town's prosperity.
Drams are rumbling.
Flutes are pealing.
'No reason for faith',
Said a man in his forties
Doo-doo-dah-dah-dah, Doo-dah-dah-dah
Drams liven up all people on the street
Doo-doo-dah-dah-dah, Doo-dah-dah-dah
Girls are dancing
Boys are singing
Sweat are dripping
Faces are shining
I'll walk to the bitter end for ever and ever
Taking beautiful lights of festival on my back.
'I'll prepare for my festival from just today'
The festival has been made preparations the day before
The festival has made preparations from a month ago
The bririant vigorous meeting was so;
No,no, it had already been prepared since old time
Copyright Tadami Yamada 2008. All Rights Reserved.
© Rakuten Group, Inc.
