山田維史の遊卵画廊

Tadami Yamada's HAIKU (2)

Since trees' leaves were gone
I hear the curfew ringing more closer
Ah withering winter, everything disappear!

Far mountain covered with snow
The green of bamboo woods only runs
just tears blur old letters

Dead leaves of last year
collapsed, and have turned out rich soil
My garden's nook of winter

The song exists, if any
I want to cry with the song
A cluster of withered trees

Wait, wait a little while
Don't dump the calendar of this year
Still several days in December

Like a float of fishing
dim figures in the distance looked slim
in the winter cold rain

The last days of the year
go rapid pace like a rushing current
in the twilight of my life

Dissolving medicine in hot water
for my bedridden ninety two old mother
I glance at ran calendar

Ah red seeds of nandin!
They're like candle lights in dreary field
The anniversary of Chikamatsu's death

Note : Chikamatsu Monzaemon was a japanese great dramatist in the middle of the Edo era. He was born in 1653, died on December 22,1724. The anniversary of his death is a traditional season word of HAIKU.

Hearing sound of a fire
in the distance, I surprisedly woke up
fixed my gaze at darkness

The cold wind rages out
The candle flickers in the small window
A secret conference at there

It's the horned moon tonight
Old love rankled still in my mind
Ah nail mark of you!

It's crescent moon tonight
In the joy I threw my opera-hat
It's hanging on the horn

A meteor shooting far away------
To grow old in this anguished earthly
I burst into laughter now

To god I will pray
for the land and also the sea
The year's the first day

Ah not only figure, where
the morning sun begins to shine into
The first day of the year

The cause of the disaster
So full of conceit everybody exorcised it
The last year, this year

Having proper pride and volition
Being not defeated of the tsunami disaster
The coming-of-age ceremony-----Full dresses!

For the surly coming tomorrow
Today, to rise young people at twenty
congratulate on threshold of life

Today, January seven, it finished
the New Year's gate decoration of pines
Needles' points the daylight remains

In the shade, blind alley
a narrow line of water is frozen
Spring's still far from here

The first snowfall of the year
---- crimson of winter camellias' here and there ----
it's nothing but disappearing fleetingly

The first snowfall of the year
It continues to fall on a hills-town
Not to open umbrella I dare

Light rain of this morning
already, already contains a tinge of spring
O sprouts from the trees

I feel most reluctant to leave
casualties at the mercy of the waves
The spring sea equally now

Drawn apart from the birthplace
their shoes were smeared with spring mud
And sorrows were in bud

Survived Tohoku earthquake and tsunami
Sow the seeds of flowers on this life
Until end off deep grief

I don't forget that day ----
The Tohoku tsunami engulfed twenty thousand casualties
Eleven March, Two thousand eleven

It was tasteless of you
to pass away as spring had come
Today, the anniversary of Father's death

A spring light breeze disturbs
a column of smoke of offer incense
I'm standing before Father's grave

A Zen temple's no gate
but the gate in spirit on occasions
a misty moonlight over it

My spring garden no flowers
I deserted them in exchange for mother's life
Although quite innocent flowers were

Already it's been three years
I haven't seen flowers in my garden
Spring now no any flowers

Is it the breath of spring,
Or is it the breath of Mother?
I prick up my ears

Although spring I'm in mourning
A domestic cat gently strokes my cheek
Is her pity for comforting?

My old mother passed away
I find myself in odd moments of leisure
Breezes' blowing through the parlor

The season in the world
now alive with all sorts of flowers
I am surely in mourning

Petals of a white peach
seem to be wetted with gently air
at evening twilight of March

Peach's buds are gently untying
Pink of the inside peeps slightly out
Now that it's life spouts

It was a sudden shower
I just found a restaurant named MUSTARD-BLOSSOMS
It was like a bower

The fresh scent of "udo" !
I offer the plate before Mom's spirit
on her way ascending to heaven

[Note]
"Udo" is a plant, Aralia cordata. It's like asparagus.
Japanese love the fresh scent of "udo", and have the salad with vinegar and "miso(bean paste)" dressing, etc.. "Udo" is traditionally one of the taste in spring of Japan.

I'm listening the spring rain
sitting in the room, much too large
because of my mother's death

I happened to look back
to find Mom already left this life
Hazy moon in the distance

In her ninety two years
my mother submitted quietly to her doom
Ah the middle of spring

To get over life's difficulties
To have seen Sakura ninety two times
Mom passed away in spring

[Note]
Sakura is the cherry blossom, and a symbol of Japan. The cherry blossoms have long been loved and appreciated with a special feeling by the Japanese because of its the way of ungrudgingly and purely falling to become like a wind storm.

On the surface of jar
of my mother's ashes, along its roundness,
the glow from offering flowers

I can't decide the day
of laying my mother's ashes to rest
as I regret spring's going

To be still in mourning
but I take off my long-sleeves shirt
It's the beginning of summer

Sweet the flowers of deutzia!
Behind the hedge, each of children ducked
to play hide and seek

Green plums drop down and
roll over and over on the lane
in a continuous early summer rain

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