By the Hudson River
from whom was I born
from a bed from a hard bed
as though a flesh with bone dropped from a dog’s mouth
I was dropped
my parents are round
and smooth like a moon
and had human faces as well
and had a human smell
had a smell of darkness
a smell of a silent woods
that’s all in New York
by the Hudson river
I am standing
I am the same as this river
flowing
I am the same as this river
standing
too wide to measure the breadth of your chest
too far to measure your memory
I don’t have to go back to the time I was born
my memory
both my destination and now drift in my mind
even I cannot measure
by the Hudson river
a curly-haired
black-faced child
lean with large eyes when I
laugh as though crying
my face breaks and begins to shake
when I sing I do a sinuous
dance as though the world exists in my hips
my name is Billy
I don’t know my name in the past
I don’t know the sky I was born in
what tree it was or if I had leaves of brothers or not
I don’t know the stable I was born in
was it a straw bed or a wood bed
nevertheless I was like
the cheeks of a grown fruit
at the fruit shop
while I was looking at fruits I cannot buy
at a butcher shop
while I was watching a pig leg being cut off
by the Hudson river
I stand now alone
carrying myself a little grown-up
my grandma grandpa
my dear love the Hudson river
I will go floating with the river
with the big flowing Hudson in my mind
with the Hudson that flows with me in my mind
Bird
Bye Bye Blackbird
it is not that
several hundred birds several thousand birds fly away
always what flies away is one bird
from my inside
dangling my ugly internal organs
every time I get pregnant with you
I lose my sight inside blindness
I live sniffing the world
when I lose you I see you for the first time
but at that moment my up to now dies
and life in a new blindness begins to move
Bye Bye Blackbird
he sings on the stage transforming into one bird
his audience chases his bird becoming several tens of thousands of ears
at that time the audience is the blind wings of several hundred thousand
the audience who cannot see flapping their wings
becomes a ghost of a bird
and chasing the voice of one bird on the stage
dances over the seats in the dark
but I wonder if anyone can tell which one is not a ghost
but a real bird again
Bye Bye Blackbird
he who is singing cannot tell either
what is it that truly flies away from here
just he is singing wildly and feels
that now in which something is flying away is certain
it may be his velvety time
it may be the extremely soft sirloin of his soul
or it may be the star memory of his guilty crime
or it may be warm blood
that splashes from the tulip-shaped brain of a child sitting in the front row
Bye Bye Blackbird
I am a bird
whether I refuse myself
or accept myself
as long as I cannot snatch away
this pointed beak that does not stop pecking
and the wings that have a flapping habit
today I am a bird
I become a prayer and a bird several times a day piercing the sky
and thrust out of the sky and fall
or internal organs that carry a falling bird
inside me there are these giant birds that fall down
small birds from a lean and old bird to an arrogant
and sweet bird
and some are half-alive and groaning
I give funerals to these birds as my daily task
on the other hand
I warm the eggs of future birds as my daily task
the stranger the bird which bites off the future
the more I love and desperately warm its eggs
Bye Bye Blackbird
I am thinking of becoming a strange bird
and try making the one that eats me up fly away
really I must make that one fly away to the point blood gushes out
elegantly singing
Bye Bye Blackbird
A Person Dies
a person dies
who died?
my mother died
Ikuya said
a dog cries at the back says I am hungry
a man cries at the front says I do not want to part
but in April the cherry blossoms
snow suddenly falls
a person dies
one person parts from another person
Kaoru says
p l e a s e
the beer she bought for us
filled with scattered golden tears
how merry
tonight’s vigil is
then after a meal
we went out to dance
men were getting drunk from the lower half of the body
but I do not get drunk
between the drunk lower half of my body and the not drunk upper half of my body
I listen to Autis
the dead do not get drunk
to watch a person dying
one does not get drunk either
but a dog is different
when it says I am hungry
I will give it ample food
also to a living human being
I do not give food in a half-hearted way
but when a person dies
I will offer a little
a token of a condolence money
counting what I have in my wallet
and keeping some for tonight’s meal
a person dies
it is April so
in the kitchen the smell of boiling new potatoes
the green flame of the spinach
the appetite vigorously and quietly growing
the desire for sex
and a person dies really
Ikuya’s mother completely
has disappeared
Three Early Poems
Kazuko Shiraishi
translated from the Japanese by Yumiko Tsumura
Listen to "By the Hudson River" read in the original Japanese by the poet, with trumpeter Itaru Oki:
These poems belong to Kazuko Shiraishi’s early works, collected in the forthcoming book Sea, Land, Shadow. I have been privileged to work with Shiraishi in person and by phone between Palo Alto and Tokyo. Translating her poems is challenging as she experiments with theme and form, often violating conventional Japanese syntax and grammar, and traditional lyricism, pushing the boundaries of language, and exploring new horizons of awareness. My translation attempts to retain the physical layout of the original poem in terms of spacing and structure while avoiding an overly literal translation. At the same time, I try to reflect the operatic, rhapsodic tone of her colloquial monologue.
Modern Japanese written language uses kanji (Chinese ideographic characters), hiragana, and katakana (phonographic character sets developed from kanji). Kanji and hiragana are used for Japanese origin words (wa-go) and imported Chinese words (kan-go), while katakana is used for Indo-European origin words (gairai-go). Writing in conventional syntax and grammar means that one’s perception is confined to traditional Japanese thinking. Shiraishi experiments with breaking syntax, grammar, and the rules of the modern writing system to achieve psychological impact, using katakana for Japanese and Chinese origin words. For example, in “A Person Dies,” for the word totsuzen (“suddenly”), which is normally written in hiragana (とつぜん) or in kanji (突然), she uses katakana (トツゼン). In “Bird,” the word togatta (“pointed”) is usually written in hiragana (とがった), but Shiraishi uses katakana to give a visual sense of sharpness. Similarly, in “By the Hudson River,” happa (“leaf”), usually written in hiragana (はっぱ) or a combination of kanji and hiragana (葉っぱ), is rendered in katakana (ハッパ); and wara (“straw”), usually written in hiragana (わら) or kanji (藁), is given in katakana (ワラ) for psychological impact. In the translation I have used italics to represent these katakana words to reflect the poet’s experimentation. Also, as seen in “Bird,” Shiraishi alters the spacing between certain words or separates the preposition from the phrase preceding it, for a visual effect that I retain in the translation.
Modern Japanese written language uses kanji (Chinese ideographic characters), hiragana, and katakana (phonographic character sets developed from kanji). Kanji and hiragana are used for Japanese origin words (wa-go) and imported Chinese words (kan-go), while katakana is used for Indo-European origin words (gairai-go). Writing in conventional syntax and grammar means that one’s perception is confined to traditional Japanese thinking. Shiraishi experiments with breaking syntax, grammar, and the rules of the modern writing system to achieve psychological impact, using katakana for Japanese and Chinese origin words. For example, in “A Person Dies,” for the word totsuzen (“suddenly”), which is normally written in hiragana (とつぜん) or in kanji (突然), she uses katakana (トツゼン). In “Bird,” the word togatta (“pointed”) is usually written in hiragana (とがった), but Shiraishi uses katakana to give a visual sense of sharpness. Similarly, in “By the Hudson River,” happa (“leaf”), usually written in hiragana (はっぱ) or a combination of kanji and hiragana (葉っぱ), is rendered in katakana (ハッパ); and wara (“straw”), usually written in hiragana (わら) or kanji (藁), is given in katakana (ワラ) for psychological impact. In the translation I have used italics to represent these katakana words to reflect the poet’s experimentation. Also, as seen in “Bird,” Shiraishi alters the spacing between certain words or separates the preposition from the phrase preceding it, for a visual effect that I retain in the translation.
Kazuko Shiraishi was born in Vancouver, Canada, in 1931. She moved to Japan with her family shortly before World War II. At the age of seventeen, she became involved with the surrealist VOU group and later became known as Japan’s leading Beat poet. Kenneth Rexroth once said, “Shiraishi is the Allen Ginsberg of Japan.” She is the foremost living, experimental Japanese poet. Shiraishi has published more than thirty books of poetry and received Japan’s most prestigious poetry awards, including the honor of the Purple Ribbon Medal from the Emperor of Japan. She has been invited to poetry conferences and festivals in more than thirty countries. Her poetry has been translated into more than twenty languages and has received the Sumerebo Golden Key Award for International Poetry in 2010. In 2014 she received the Pioneer Prize in Modern Poetry by the Japan Modern Poetry Association.
Yumiko Tsumura was born and educated in Japan. She earned an M.F.A. in poetry and translation from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, as well as an M.A. in literature from Kwansei Gakuin University. She has taught at universities in Japan and the US. Her poems have appeared in international poetry journals such as Wisconsin Review, Manoa, Kyoto Journal, Kanto Poetry, and Eastlit. Her book of early poems, The Green Scream, was published by Quixote Press in 1970. Currently, she is compiling a collection of her previously published poems. Her books of poetry translations include Kazuko Shiraishi’s Let Those Who Appear (2002) and My Floating Mother, City (2009) from New Directions, and Tamura Ryuichi’s Poems 1946–1998 (2000) from CCC Books. Her translation of a volume of Shiraishi’s poetry, Sea, Land, Shadow, is forthcoming from New Directions in 2016.
