Mother Dies
Broad leaves turn themselves on the trees, gleaming, hiding, never restful
As the drooping flowers of white wisteria fall, it touches me — the way their pods now begin to show
Mother far down the road — to have a look, to have a look at her life, I simply hurry
In the sun-shining capital, at night, looking at the redness of lights, my heart does not settle down
As I hurry to have a look at mother's eyes, sweat comes out on my brow
The way I go out of the capital where lamps are red — will people think I'm going on a casual trip?
Faintly have I slept, in the running train, have I slept?
As snow blazes on Mount Azuma, the train has entered the country of my mother far down the road
Morning cold, frost formed on mulberry leaves, getting closer to mother, the train runs
From the blue light shimmering over the marshes do you say my melancholy comes? LAKE HAKURYO
At the Upper Mountain station I got off and saw my brother, young, now a widower
From far off I have brought medicines, she watches me because I am her son
I go near her, she watches me and says, she says something because I am her son
On the vermilion-lacquered spear on the wall-beam I see dust; close to mother, in the morning, I see it
I have offered prayers to the sunlight coming out of the mountains. The flowers of columbines continue to bloom
Lying by mother, who's close to death, night hushed, frogs in distant paddies are heard in heaven
Mulberry fragrance drifts blue at daybreak, it is unbearable, I call to my mother
Going near the eyes of mother who's close to death, I said, Columbines are blooming
It's spring, light flows, and I'm sad. Perhaps by now, gnats are born in the grassfields
As I rub the forehead of mother who's close to death, my tears keep flowing — as I come to myself
Away from mother's eyes, for some time, I watch — how sad the silkworms asleep
My mother, my mother who is going to die, mother with sagging breasts who gave birth to me
With two red-throated swallows perched on the crossbeam, mother with sagging breasts comes to death
People who are alive gathered and saw my mother's life go to death, go to death
I come alone, stand in the silkworm room, and my loneliness becomes extreme
Young oak leaves shine and turn — unreal, these mountain silkworms are blue, mountain silkworms just born
The sunlight filters in, mottled, and is saddening. The mountain silkworms are still small
On the funeral road, sorrel blossoms, bemused, on the funeral road, were they not falling?
Along the road through the field where windflowers with red mouths bloomed, light flowed as we went
I hold the fire with which I must cremate my mother. In the skies there is nothing to look at
Under the night sky where the stars are, red and red, mulberry mother went on burning
Deep into the night, I looked at the funeral fire of my mother; simply red, it went on burning
As we guard the funeral fire, this night becomes old. The heavens tonight are awesome
We guard the fire, the night is old; my younger brother sadly sings a song of life
Single-minded, I will keep watch over the faintly red rising smoke, the smoke
We have picked mother in the ashes. In the morning sunrise we have picked mother
The bone fragments we carefully collected on rhubarb leaves — we have put them all away in the urn
Languidly into heaven a lark climbs singing; on snow-mottled mountains no clouds stay
Both stinkweed and thistle flowers are found burnt, as heaven dawns at the crematorium
Because spring of heat haze has come, tree buds have all sprouted near the mountain where I go on walking
On the mountain where faint akebia flowers fall, a wild dove coos, its voice lonely
Near the mountain a pheasant called. Near the mountain hot water comes out — how sad it is
In sour hot water, body sadly immersed, I saw light blaze in the sky
Coming back to my birthplace, the village where my house is, I pickle the flowers of white wisteria and eat them
The snow left unmelted on the mountainside is saddening; I push apart bamboo grass, hurrying
Pushing through the bamboo grass field, I go and keep going, though I am not looking for mother
The acid hot water that comes out at the foot of a fire mountain — I was immersed in it one night, sad
Near the mountain where faint flowers fall, mists, flowing, have gone away
A fire burning far off on a mountain beyond the valley — its scarlet, and my mother, saddening
On the mountainside, in the distance, fire burning red and red, its smoke moves though I'm sad
Picking buds of devil's walking sticks, I walked. The pass by the mountain narrowed as I walked, lonely
Bearing up with loneliness I push into the mountain; there, darkly, akebia flowers are falling
Far into the view, avalanching down the mountainside, blooming magnolias appear faint
Thinking the mottled snow on Mount Zao may blaze, as evening came, I went to a cliff
It touched me — the way the rain was falling. The earth near the mountain was red — how pitiful it was
The cloud flowing in distant heaven has no soul-ending life, they say, and that makes me sad
Between the mountains the sun has set, all of it; now the fragrance of hot water pervades, drifts
After sleeping two nights at a hot spring, I ate water shield and felt sorrow again
Because I'm on the mountain I eat bamboo shoots. Mulberry mother, mulberry mother! ( WRITTEN IN MAY )
As the drooping flowers of white wisteria fall, it touches me — the way their pods now begin to show
Mother far down the road — to have a look, to have a look at her life, I simply hurry
In the sun-shining capital, at night, looking at the redness of lights, my heart does not settle down
As I hurry to have a look at mother's eyes, sweat comes out on my brow
The way I go out of the capital where lamps are red — will people think I'm going on a casual trip?
Faintly have I slept, in the running train, have I slept?
As snow blazes on Mount Azuma, the train has entered the country of my mother far down the road
Morning cold, frost formed on mulberry leaves, getting closer to mother, the train runs
From the blue light shimmering over the marshes do you say my melancholy comes? LAKE HAKURYO
At the Upper Mountain station I got off and saw my brother, young, now a widower
From far off I have brought medicines, she watches me because I am her son
I go near her, she watches me and says, she says something because I am her son
On the vermilion-lacquered spear on the wall-beam I see dust; close to mother, in the morning, I see it
I have offered prayers to the sunlight coming out of the mountains. The flowers of columbines continue to bloom
Lying by mother, who's close to death, night hushed, frogs in distant paddies are heard in heaven
Mulberry fragrance drifts blue at daybreak, it is unbearable, I call to my mother
Going near the eyes of mother who's close to death, I said, Columbines are blooming
It's spring, light flows, and I'm sad. Perhaps by now, gnats are born in the grassfields
As I rub the forehead of mother who's close to death, my tears keep flowing — as I come to myself
Away from mother's eyes, for some time, I watch — how sad the silkworms asleep
My mother, my mother who is going to die, mother with sagging breasts who gave birth to me
With two red-throated swallows perched on the crossbeam, mother with sagging breasts comes to death
People who are alive gathered and saw my mother's life go to death, go to death
I come alone, stand in the silkworm room, and my loneliness becomes extreme
Young oak leaves shine and turn — unreal, these mountain silkworms are blue, mountain silkworms just born
The sunlight filters in, mottled, and is saddening. The mountain silkworms are still small
On the funeral road, sorrel blossoms, bemused, on the funeral road, were they not falling?
Along the road through the field where windflowers with red mouths bloomed, light flowed as we went
I hold the fire with which I must cremate my mother. In the skies there is nothing to look at
Under the night sky where the stars are, red and red, mulberry mother went on burning
Deep into the night, I looked at the funeral fire of my mother; simply red, it went on burning
As we guard the funeral fire, this night becomes old. The heavens tonight are awesome
We guard the fire, the night is old; my younger brother sadly sings a song of life
Single-minded, I will keep watch over the faintly red rising smoke, the smoke
We have picked mother in the ashes. In the morning sunrise we have picked mother
The bone fragments we carefully collected on rhubarb leaves — we have put them all away in the urn
Languidly into heaven a lark climbs singing; on snow-mottled mountains no clouds stay
Both stinkweed and thistle flowers are found burnt, as heaven dawns at the crematorium
Because spring of heat haze has come, tree buds have all sprouted near the mountain where I go on walking
On the mountain where faint akebia flowers fall, a wild dove coos, its voice lonely
Near the mountain a pheasant called. Near the mountain hot water comes out — how sad it is
In sour hot water, body sadly immersed, I saw light blaze in the sky
Coming back to my birthplace, the village where my house is, I pickle the flowers of white wisteria and eat them
The snow left unmelted on the mountainside is saddening; I push apart bamboo grass, hurrying
Pushing through the bamboo grass field, I go and keep going, though I am not looking for mother
The acid hot water that comes out at the foot of a fire mountain — I was immersed in it one night, sad
Near the mountain where faint flowers fall, mists, flowing, have gone away
A fire burning far off on a mountain beyond the valley — its scarlet, and my mother, saddening
On the mountainside, in the distance, fire burning red and red, its smoke moves though I'm sad
Picking buds of devil's walking sticks, I walked. The pass by the mountain narrowed as I walked, lonely
Bearing up with loneliness I push into the mountain; there, darkly, akebia flowers are falling
Far into the view, avalanching down the mountainside, blooming magnolias appear faint
Thinking the mottled snow on Mount Zao may blaze, as evening came, I went to a cliff
It touched me — the way the rain was falling. The earth near the mountain was red — how pitiful it was
The cloud flowing in distant heaven has no soul-ending life, they say, and that makes me sad
Between the mountains the sun has set, all of it; now the fragrance of hot water pervades, drifts
After sleeping two nights at a hot spring, I ate water shield and felt sorrow again
Because I'm on the mountain I eat bamboo shoots. Mulberry mother, mulberry mother! ( WRITTEN IN MAY )
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