Tanka by Chen-ou Liu in Canada (1)

 In September, 2010,  I received an e-mail from Chen-ou Liu.

Dear Mr. Hidenori Hiruta

I came across your website while looking for the haiku written in different languages.  I was amazed by your efforts in spreading a love for Japanese short form poetry.  I wish you success in all your endeavors.
And I would like to submit the following poems for your consideration for publication on the Akita International HST Network. I shall be pleased if you translate some that appeal you much.
Warm Regards
Chen-ou Liu 

 

 

First of all, I would like to refer to a brief bio of Chen-ou Liu:
Chen-ou Liu was born in Taiwan and emigrated to Canada in 2002. He lives in Ajax, a suburb of Toronto, where he has been struggling with a life in transition and translation.

    

Chen-ou is a contributing writer for Rust+Moth and Haijinx. His poetry has been published and anthologized worldwide. His tanka have been honored with awards, including the Saigyo Awards for Tanka 2009 (honorable mention) and the 2009 San Francisco International Haiku, Senryu, Tanka, and Rengay Competition (tanka third place).

For more information about Chen-ou’s writing career, please read An Interview with Chen-ou Liu by Robert D. Wilson  

 (accessed at http://simplyhaiku.wordpress.com/2010/06/18/interview-with-chen/).

 And read more of his poetry at his website,

 Poetry in the Moment (http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/).

All the best,
Chen-ou Li  

Next I present some of his tanka with my Japanese translations.

 

Tanka:

bare trees
stand along the road
in a row
seeing me off
to another world

     

裸の木列なし道に沿い立って我の他界を見送るごとし

 

  

the threads
of a thousand poems
dangle on
the tip of a crescent moon
over my attic      

  

一千の詩の糸下がる三日月の先見えるなり屋根裏の上

 

between
that first gulp of air
and last breath —
a transitional flow
of yin and yang 

   

初息から最後の呼吸一生は陰と陽とが替わりて流る

 

a blue bird
darts into blossoms and out
unsettled
I wander and yearn
my hometown an ocean away 

   

青い鳥花へ飛びこみ落ち着かず我さすらいて故郷慕う

 

standing alone
by the main entrance
of the airport
I ponder the verb wait
transitive or intransitive  

   

空港の入り口に立ち沈思する動詞の待つは他または自かと

 

my world
is coiled on rolls of film
and projected nightly
on the screen of my mind —
when is the reel world not real? 

   

我が世界心のフィルム写し撮り夜ごとに映り実在すなり

 

Baker’s Bliss
sets out its morning bread
on the racks
I am drunk
on the spring breeze   

 

朝パンを棚に並べるパン屋さん我酔いどれて春風を受く

 

yesterday
will be the same
for tomorrow never changes —
the kite of my days
cut from the string of Life  

   

昨日また明日も変わらず同じかな我が世の凧は糸切られけり

 

if I put
a gun in my mouth
and splatter
my brain on cherry blossoms…
a timeless jisei? 

    

口に銃桜の上の頭散る永遠の自制や起こすまじなり

 

my days
aren’t graphed in ideograms
but lined up
like the English alphabet —
Chinese in the promised land    

 

我が日々は表意文字では示されぬ英文字のごと中国語なら

 

gazing
in the mirror
a stranger
stares back at me
a man with no eyes   

 

鏡見る見知らぬ人が見返して我を見つめる目のない男

 

living alone
in a world of one color
loneliness
devours each hour
then neglects the rest

   

一色の世界にひとり住んでいる孤独時飲み他を無視すなり

 

I close
the valves of my heart
to the world of red dust
solitude and I
are now of the same race

塵の世に心臓弁を我閉じる孤独と我は今同種なり

(Note: Red dust is a Buddhist set-phrase for the world and its passions)

 

  

 

I sincerely hope that you will be absorbed in tanka world of Chen–ou Liu.

 

The next posting ‘Haiku by Kaa. Na. Kalyanasundaram in India (1) ’  appears on November 6.

  

―　Hidenori  Hiruta