Toshiko Hirata
Translated from the Japanese by Eric E. Hyett and Spencer Thurlow
Time flies on windy days
wind rushing clock hands.
Six in the evening
in the park         an old man
practices bicycling.
He’s buffeted    all wobble
like he’s learning how to wobble.


Tragic scene in this park last month—
cherry blossoms scattered
by wind less strong than today’s.
What happened?
Was the weather murderous
or did branches betray their blossoms?
Of the pathetic corpses that once covered the ground,
not one petal remains.
Gone, like nothing ever happened.


Ever since I read the poem called “The Red Sparrow,”
when I go walking
I end up looking for red sparrows.
Where will they swoop down from
on such a blustery day?
White and yellow sparrows taking off, landing.
Do red sparrows exist only in that poem?


Six in the evening.
Even past six,
the old man still wobbling
on a bike that must have been a hand-me-down
from his grandkids,
wobbling because it’s too big for him
mismatched hand-me-down socks
left foot    right foot
from his grandkids.


It seems that
leaves and wind
have reached an accord
bicycle wheels    sparrow feathers
the old man’s facial features
could scatter at any moment.
Cherry blossoms scatter with a puff.


I start to feel like he could be someone I know.
I look more closely.
Is this the very poet
who wrote “The Red Sparrow?”
I look even more closely
and his socks begin to resemble
red sparrows.



十七月七日

夕方六時になりました
風の強い日は時間のたつのが早い
時計の針が風にせかされるせいだ
公園では        おじいさんが
自転車に乗る練習をしている
風にあおられ    こけてばかりいるので
こける練習をしているみたいだ


ひとつき前
この公園で惨劇があった
それほど強い風でもないのに
しきりに桜が散ったのだ
花を散らすのは風の殺意
それとも枝の裏切りだろうか
地面を埋めつくした無残な死体は
もう一枚も残っていない
何も事件などなかったように


赤い雀の詩を読んで以来
そとを歩くたびに赤い雀をさがしてしまう
こんなに風の強い日は
どこからか降ってくると思ったが
白や黄色の雀ばかりが離着陸を繰り返す
赤い雀など最初から
詩のなかにしかいないのだろうか


夕方六時になりました
六時になっても
おじいさんはまだこけてばかりだ
自転車が大きすぎるのだ
孫のおふるなのだろう
おじいさんの足は    みぎひだり
色の違う靴下をはいている
あれも孫のおふるだろうか
こけてばかりいるのは靴下のせいだ


わずかな風にも花は散るのに
強い風でも葉っぱは平気だ
葉っぱと風との間には
協定が結ばれているらしい
自転車の車輪も    雀の羽根も
おじいさんの小さな目鼻も
今にも吹き飛ばされそうなのに


ずっとおじいさんを見ているうちに
古い知り合いのような気がしてきた
もっと見ていると
おじいさんの靴下が赤い雀に見えてきた
さらに見ていると
このおじいさんこそ赤い雀の詩を書いた
詩人そのひとに見えてきた
from the book IS IT POETRY? / Deep Vellum
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Poems on the Underground Archive Donated

"Hundreds of posters and memorabilia items from a public art project—Poems On The Underground—have been donated to Cambridge University Library. The scheme began in 1986 with posters displayed across London's Tube network, featuring the words of literary greats. Among the archive is a letter from the late poet Philip Larkin, who died before he could see his own words displayed in print on the Tube. The university said the archive was now available to anyone by consultation."

viaBBC
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What Sparks Poetry:
Katie Peterson on Other Arts


"I find this to be common with poems, which are like my favorite kind of children – give them a job to do, and they'd rather do anything else. But give them nothing to do, and they hate you. A poem ends up being equal parts what you must do and what you want to do, but in a way, with a proportion, inhabiting a mood you can't predict. A map offers a perfect occasion for this, since, like a family portrait, what it leaves in points towards what it leaves out. The poem became about everything the map couldn't record."
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