Poem
Chimako Tada
MIRRORS
The mirror is always slightly taller than IIt laughs a moment after I laugh
Turning red as a boiled crab
I cut myself from the mirror with shears
*
When my lips draw close, the mirror clouds over
And I vanish behind my own sighs
Like an aristocrat hiding behind his crest
Or a gangster behind his tattoos
*
Oh traveler, go to Lacedaemon and say that in the mirror,
Graveyard of smiles, there is a single gravestone
Painted white, thick with makeup
Where the wind blows alone
© Translation: 2010, Jeffrey Angles
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA, 2010
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA, 2010
Mirrors
Mirrors
© 1968, Chimako Tada
From: Kagami no machi aruiwa me no mori (The Town of Mirrors, or the Forest of Eyes)
Publisher: Shōshinsha, Tokyo
From: Kagami no machi aruiwa me no mori (The Town of Mirrors, or the Forest of Eyes)
Publisher: Shōshinsha, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Chimako Tada
Close
MIRRORS
The mirror is always slightly taller than IIt laughs a moment after I laugh
Turning red as a boiled crab
I cut myself from the mirror with shears
*
When my lips draw close, the mirror clouds over
And I vanish behind my own sighs
Like an aristocrat hiding behind his crest
Or a gangster behind his tattoos
*
Oh traveler, go to Lacedaemon and say that in the mirror,
Graveyard of smiles, there is a single gravestone
Painted white, thick with makeup
Where the wind blows alone
© 2010, Jeffrey Angles
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: 2010, University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: 2010, University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA
MIRRORS
The mirror is always slightly taller than IIt laughs a moment after I laugh
Turning red as a boiled crab
I cut myself from the mirror with shears
*
When my lips draw close, the mirror clouds over
And I vanish behind my own sighs
Like an aristocrat hiding behind his crest
Or a gangster behind his tattoos
*
Oh traveler, go to Lacedaemon and say that in the mirror,
Graveyard of smiles, there is a single gravestone
Painted white, thick with makeup
Where the wind blows alone
© 2010, Jeffrey Angles
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: 2010, University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA
From: Forest of Eyes: Selected Poetry of Tada Chimako
Publisher: 2010, University of California Press, Berkeley, California, USA
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