Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Inuo Taguchi

FOR BREAKFAST

In each and every grain of this brown rice
a god is seated auspiciously and
enjoys supreme bliss and love
far beyond our imagination
 
That is also true of this turnip
and of this tofu
We live eating love
Our love eats love
A meal is such a festive ritual
 
We are surely starved
We have never been starved
because our real stomach
called the soul
is always filled with
food of supreme bliss
 
Even an inch-long bug has a half-inch-long soul
so peel away all the bad money of
sorrows
and turn it into the gold of joy
 
That is the hope entrusted to us,
says Breakfast to me,
we must never take our eyes off
that hope

aan het ontbijt

elke korrel van deze ongepelde rijst
is gewijd aan god
en gaat ons voorstellingsvermogen ver te boven
vol plezier in geluk en liefde
 
en deze koolraap
hetzelfde geldt voor de tofoe
wij leven door liefde te eten
onze liefde drinkt liefde
zo’n viering is eten nu
 
wij lijden ongetwijfeld honger
wij hebben nog nooit honger geleden
onze ziel is de ware maag en
zit altijd vol met
geluksvoedsel
 
ook een insect is klein maar fijn en heeft een ziel
dus neem de besmette centen van ons verdriet
geef je helemaal bloot
en maak er een klinkende munt van blijdschap van
 
het ontbijt leert mij
dat dat de wens is die ons is toevertrouwd
van die wens
mogen wij onze blik nooit afwenden

Close

FOR BREAKFAST

In each and every grain of this brown rice
a god is seated auspiciously and
enjoys supreme bliss and love
far beyond our imagination
 
That is also true of this turnip
and of this tofu
We live eating love
Our love eats love
A meal is such a festive ritual
 
We are surely starved
We have never been starved
because our real stomach
called the soul
is always filled with
food of supreme bliss
 
Even an inch-long bug has a half-inch-long soul
so peel away all the bad money of
sorrows
and turn it into the gold of joy
 
That is the hope entrusted to us,
says Breakfast to me,
we must never take our eyes off
that hope

FOR BREAKFAST

In each and every grain of this brown rice
a god is seated auspiciously and
enjoys supreme bliss and love
far beyond our imagination
 
That is also true of this turnip
and of this tofu
We live eating love
Our love eats love
A meal is such a festive ritual
 
We are surely starved
We have never been starved
because our real stomach
called the soul
is always filled with
food of supreme bliss
 
Even an inch-long bug has a half-inch-long soul
so peel away all the bad money of
sorrows
and turn it into the gold of joy
 
That is the hope entrusted to us,
says Breakfast to me,
we must never take our eyes off
that hope
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère