the bird, the bell, and me (misuzu kaneko series #5)

The Bird, The Bell, And Me
by Misuzu Kaneko
translated and illustrated by dosankodebbie

Though I hold out my arms as wide as I can,
I can never soar the skies;
A little bird can do just that,
yet not run as fast as I can.

Though I jiggle my body from head to toe,
I can't make pretty sounds;
A tinkling bell can do just that,
yet not know as many songs as I do.

The bell, the bird, and then there's me;
each of us different, and each of us good.

illustration friday (imagination)

The word "imagination" immediately calls to mind Misuzu Kaneko (1903-1930), the beloved Japanese writer of poems and songs for children. This is the fifth poem I've translated for my on-going series of etegami illustrating Kaneko's poems. It seems especially appropriate for this week's topic.

The Stars and the Dandelion

In the deepest part of the blue sky,
like small stones that sink to the bottom of the sea,
the stars wait until nightfall
the eye cannot see them by daylight

though you cannot see them, they are there
things you can't see are still there

The wilted dandelion, bare of fluff

in a crack of the riverbank, silent
concealed, waits for spring
its powerful root hidden from the eye

though you cannot see it, it is there
things you can't see are still there

by Misuzu Kaneko

illustration friday (secret)

pansy tears

After my last IF post --on the topic of  "Shiny" -- Sadami asked me to post more of my translations of Japanese poetry, and this one, another by the poet and songwriter Misuzu Kaneko,  seemed to fit this week's IF theme:


Dewdrops

I will keep it to myself

that the flowers were shedding tears

in a corner of the garden

this morning.

If the news were to spread,

and the bees were to hear of it,

they would feel so guilty,

they might return the honey.

poem by Misuzu Kaneko

my translation

illustration friday (shiny)

"Shiny" brings to mind the blue-backed fish of the sea, which includes mackerel, sardines, pacific saury, herring, and Japanese amberjack. All of them are very, very popular on our dinner table. When ordered in Japanese sushi restaurants, they are commonly called hikarimono, or "the shiny ones."

Here is an etegami showing sunlight catching the scales of a huge school of sardines swimming in the sea. This is a new version of an etegami I painted almost exactly a year ago, illustrating a poem by the Japanese poet and songwriter Misuzu Kaneko (1903-1930).  I've translated it below, but haven't quite captured the rhythm of the Japanese version, or conveyed the unsentimental pathos of the original. I will keep working on it. But roughly translated, it goes like this:

The Big Haul

Beneath a glowing sunrise,

the fishing boats return,

loaded with Ooba Sardines.

On shore, villagers celebrate like it's a festival.

In the sea, sardines hold a funeral

for their tens of thousands of mates.

layers of snow (misuzu kaneko series #4)

With an average yearly snowfall of 630 cm (248 inches), Sapporo has the dubious honor of being the "snowiest major city" in the world. We try to think of snow as a resource rather than a liability, but sometimes it's hard to maintain that perspective. In 1972 Sapporo hosted the Winter Olympics, the first ever held in Asia, and of course, we are famous for the Sapporo Snow Festival, which draws 2 million tourists from around the world, more than doubling the city's population of 1.9 million. Speaking of which, this year's Snow Festival starts on February 6th and goes until the 12th. Give me a shout if you plan to be here for it. I will be watching it on the TV screen in the warmth of my living room. : )

Note: The translation of the Misuzu Kaneko poem accompanying the etegami collage is my own work.

dewdrops (misuzu kaneko series #3)

Dewdrops

I will keep it to myself

that the flowers were shedding tears

in a corner of the garden

this morning.

If the news were to spread,

and the bees were to hear of it,

they would feel so guilty,

they might return the honey.

poem by Misuzu Kaneko

my translation

sweet osmanthus (misuzu kaneko series #2)

Sweet Osmanthus

The sweet fragrance of osmanthus

fills the garden.

The breezes hesitate

at the gate,

debating whether or not to enter.

poem by Misuzu Kaneko

my translation

the big haul (misuzu kaneko series #1)

I recently became a fan of poet and songwriter Misuzu Kaneko. I had long been aware of her poems for children, but until recently I had never wondered about the poet herself. Now that I know more about her, I am hit harder and more deeply by her works than I was before.

Like the butterfly in the previous post, this was painted on a double-sized washi card that I've been experimenting with lately. It doesn't have the same bleed factor as my usual brand, but I'm trying to learn how to use it to its full potential.

I've tried to translate the short poem that inspired today's etegami, but I haven't been able to capture the rhythm of the Japanese words, or convey the unsentimental pathos of the original. I will keep working on it. But the meaning goes something like this:

The Big Haul

Beneath a glowing sunrise,

the fishing boats return,

loaded with Ooba Sardines.

On shore, villagers celebrate like it's a festival.

In the sea, sardines hold a funeral

for their tens of thousands of mates.