The Illusion of Cherry Blossoms
“Under heaven, nobody is a stranger.
My yearning for you, poet,
Brought me down spring roads of one-thousand ri.” ◆
A girl’s voice with a sweet southern accent spoke.
I looked up and saw a branch of cherry blossoms in full bloom
In a small pail by the window
Of my deserted hut.
“I’m just a country girl from the north,
But I will clean your yard in the morning
So you can make spring poems.”
A nightingale’s voice spoke at the edge of a bamboo grove.
Looking up, I saw a cherry stump
Laden with cottony pink flowers.
“My sick brother sent me as a spring messenger
From the Tsukushi fields far west
To have you comment on his poetry collection.”
A voice rang
As if fragrant flower dewdrops
Dripped onto the grass.
Looking up, I saw by my well
A young cherry tree handsomely in bloom
With the color of innocent compassion.
“Have you forgotten, Sir, have you,The child you left in the northern
country of Shinogi?
Though your letter did not say, ‘come,’
Yet at the invitation of the spring wind,
Led by the blooming flowers and the full spring,
Thinking that there is no reason
To live alone acting sour,
Following the eastern road
I have come for a visit.”
Another voice gently stroked my cheeks like a sweet breeze.
Then my delighted gaze caught sight of
A large tree full of the blossoms of wisdom
Standing by my eastern window.
The smiling sun brimmed over
The flowers onto my manuscript
Laid out on my desk
To color it gold.
“There are days of great happiness
Even to this impoverished poet,” so saying
I put down my pen with a smile.
Presently, a breeze blew off the clouds of flowers
As if playing with my illusory cherry nymphs.
In the window and on the yard
It sprinkled pink flowers for some time.
~On knowing oneself too well by Takuboku Ishikawa
