Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Yumi Fuzuki

耳のはばたき

Those ears are butterflies
And you’re unaware.

Chasing a voice, poised to go dancing off, a single wing.

When your heart is stolen,
your ear starts flapping.
I will be sucked inside your ear hole
to become sound itself.
The Me of sound, I will be ever on your shoulder.
Whether it’s the chirping of birds
Or how to solve factorial problems,
I must incessantly transmit to your ear.

Taking in the wind, the gentle spiral of your ear curves it into an eddy. If I could descend that spiral, if I could steal inside of you––––. In the hinterlands within your ear sits an organ. Its glossy lid springs open, hands dance across the keys. I want to resound. To resound all the way to where you are, to your body. A shard of eardrum, equipped with a large body, is jostled awake. And it turns around to look at you.

I can never go return
to being the Me who didn’t know you.
Will never be able
to cease resounding.
Say, whose voice calls you to dance?
You, the wing that senses me and trembles.

Spotted you for the first time in forever,
you’re rocking some new earphones.
Pierced through with a pin,
the butterfly obstinately casts a downward gaze.
The morning chimes, the kitchen humming,
were once my song,
night’s whisperings––––.
Enveloping all that within its wings,
The butterfly must be sleeping.
So as not to awaken it,
I’ll keep my greetings to a lovely voice.
You laugh,
Your whole body, has forgotten me.

Even if you strain, those ears.

耳のはばたき

耳のはばたき

その耳が蝶であることを
きみは知らない。

声を求めて舞い立つ、ひとひらの。

何かに心奪われたとき、
君の耳ははばたきはじめる。
その耳穴に吸い込まれて
わたしは音そのものになるだろう。
音のわたしは、いつでもきみの肩のうえ。
鳥のさえずりだとか
因数分解の解き方だとか
絶えず耳打ちしなくてはいけない。

風を受けて、耳はらせん状になだらかな渦をまいた。その渦を駆け下りていけたら、きみのなかへ忍び入れたなら――。きみの耳の奥地には、一台のオルガンが据え置かれている。つややかな蓋を弾むように上げ、その鍵盤に手を躍らせた。響きたい。きみのいる場所に、きみ自身に、鳴り響いていきたい。大きなからだに備わった、ひとかけらの鼓膜を揺り起こす。そうしてきみを振り返らせよう。

きみを知らないわたしには
もう戻れない。
どうしても
鳴り止むことができないの。
どの呼び声に舞うのだろうか、
わたしを感じて震える翅よ。

久々に見かけたきみは
新しいイヤホンに耳をあずけていた。
ピンに刺しつらぬかれて
蝶はかたくなにうつむいている。
かつてわたしが奏でた、
朝のチャイム、キッチンのうたごえ、
夜のささやき――。
それらを翅のあいだに閉じこめて
蝶は眠っているのだろうか。
起こしてしまわぬよう、
きれいな声であいさつがしたい。
きみはわらって
そのからだごと、わたしを忘れる。

澄ましても、耳。
Close

耳のはばたき

Those ears are butterflies
And you’re unaware.

Chasing a voice, poised to go dancing off, a single wing.

When your heart is stolen,
your ear starts flapping.
I will be sucked inside your ear hole
to become sound itself.
The Me of sound, I will be ever on your shoulder.
Whether it’s the chirping of birds
Or how to solve factorial problems,
I must incessantly transmit to your ear.

Taking in the wind, the gentle spiral of your ear curves it into an eddy. If I could descend that spiral, if I could steal inside of you––––. In the hinterlands within your ear sits an organ. Its glossy lid springs open, hands dance across the keys. I want to resound. To resound all the way to where you are, to your body. A shard of eardrum, equipped with a large body, is jostled awake. And it turns around to look at you.

I can never go return
to being the Me who didn’t know you.
Will never be able
to cease resounding.
Say, whose voice calls you to dance?
You, the wing that senses me and trembles.

Spotted you for the first time in forever,
you’re rocking some new earphones.
Pierced through with a pin,
the butterfly obstinately casts a downward gaze.
The morning chimes, the kitchen humming,
were once my song,
night’s whisperings––––.
Enveloping all that within its wings,
The butterfly must be sleeping.
So as not to awaken it,
I’ll keep my greetings to a lovely voice.
You laugh,
Your whole body, has forgotten me.

Even if you strain, those ears.

耳のはばたき

Those ears are butterflies
And you’re unaware.

Chasing a voice, poised to go dancing off, a single wing.

When your heart is stolen,
your ear starts flapping.
I will be sucked inside your ear hole
to become sound itself.
The Me of sound, I will be ever on your shoulder.
Whether it’s the chirping of birds
Or how to solve factorial problems,
I must incessantly transmit to your ear.

Taking in the wind, the gentle spiral of your ear curves it into an eddy. If I could descend that spiral, if I could steal inside of you––––. In the hinterlands within your ear sits an organ. Its glossy lid springs open, hands dance across the keys. I want to resound. To resound all the way to where you are, to your body. A shard of eardrum, equipped with a large body, is jostled awake. And it turns around to look at you.

I can never go return
to being the Me who didn’t know you.
Will never be able
to cease resounding.
Say, whose voice calls you to dance?
You, the wing that senses me and trembles.

Spotted you for the first time in forever,
you’re rocking some new earphones.
Pierced through with a pin,
the butterfly obstinately casts a downward gaze.
The morning chimes, the kitchen humming,
were once my song,
night’s whisperings––––.
Enveloping all that within its wings,
The butterfly must be sleeping.
So as not to awaken it,
I’ll keep my greetings to a lovely voice.
You laugh,
Your whole body, has forgotten me.

Even if you strain, those ears.
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