Poem
Chimako Tada
MOONSTONE FIRE
The moonstone woman combs her hairBlind even before birth
She lives only within her own light
There is the sound of an earthenware jar cracking
And water flows down a long staircase
Into the depths of a murky violet hole
When she lights a lamp in loneliness
She senses dogs crouching
At the four corners of the earth
The woman will someday go beyond the tower
Crossing corridors of gathering clouds
Led by fish with lidless eyes
But now, she holds sour fruit in her mouth
And combs the moonlight
Sitting swallowed in shadow
© 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
MOONSTONE FIRE
© 1986, Chimako Tada
From: Hafuribi (Ceremonial Fire)
Publisher: Ozawa Shoten, Tokyo
From: Hafuribi (Ceremonial Fire)
Publisher: Ozawa Shoten, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Chimako Tada
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MOONSTONE FIRE
The moonstone woman combs her hairBlind even before birth
She lives only within her own light
There is the sound of an earthenware jar cracking
And water flows down a long staircase
Into the depths of a murky violet hole
When she lights a lamp in loneliness
She senses dogs crouching
At the four corners of the earth
The woman will someday go beyond the tower
Crossing corridors of gathering clouds
Led by fish with lidless eyes
But now, she holds sour fruit in her mouth
And combs the moonlight
Sitting swallowed in shadow
© 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
MOONSTONE FIRE
The moonstone woman combs her hairBlind even before birth
She lives only within her own light
There is the sound of an earthenware jar cracking
And water flows down a long staircase
Into the depths of a murky violet hole
When she lights a lamp in loneliness
She senses dogs crouching
At the four corners of the earth
The woman will someday go beyond the tower
Crossing corridors of gathering clouds
Led by fish with lidless eyes
But now, she holds sour fruit in her mouth
And combs the moonlight
Sitting swallowed in shadow
© 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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