Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Masayo Koike

Hakozaki on Deep Blue

Nothing captured Hakozaki Ichirô’s heart as much as deep blue flowers

One day
When he was waiting in front of the station for a friend
By chance his eye fell upon a nearby flower bed
There quite by accident
A mass of small blue flowers was growing
His line of vision
As if harvested by a vacuum cleaner was sucked into it
Hakozaki could not understand what had happened

Blue
Pierced Hakozaki’s mucus membranes
Like an overflowing river it
Encroached upon his interior
Without exception every word that he possessed was drowned
After the profound silence only an exclamation mark
Was hoisted up like a small fish

Ah,
How deep was the blue,
Thought Hakozaki

It was at that time when he was assailed by a sharp grief
That made him want to weep loudly
There was no reason for this grief
In front of the station like this
He thought I should not break into tears all of a sudden
The self that Hakozaki had
Stifled firmly now
Turned him into
A newborn baby

Blue flowers the first thing the baby had seen since its birth

This was an instantaneous
Movement of emotion, an impulse
Far away from that thing called passion Hakozaki
Had never been as shocked by his own actions as then

It was only a colour
It was only blue

But Hakozaki was distraught
In his chest
There was a tightness
He felt as if he wanted to dive into the flowers
It was truly
That he was in love with the flowers, exactly that

‘Hakozaki, sorry for being late’
According to his friend who had said this, and then tapped him on the shoulder from behind
Hakozaki at that time
With a somewhat contorted face
Appeared to be saying something about blue flowers
In fact
It was the behaviour of a
Completely helpless baby

The sequel –

1  What befell Hakozaki after that I don’t know.

2  When Asians are newborn a blue spot appears near their buttocks. It’s a very pale blue mark like paint dissolved in water. We have blue in our bodies from the beginning.
When I was a child, on the lymphatic glands on my groin I had an almond-shaped blue spot. In the bath I used to compare mine with my little sister’s. In colour and appearance my little sister’s blue spot was slightly different. Now I can’t find it anywhere, I wonder when, where and how it disappeared?

3 Once I used to stare feverishly at a blue convolvulus in my garden and I felt as if I was peeking at someone’s crotch. Plant life revolves like a screw and bores into the depth of the life of the person who is observing it. 

Like Hakozaki I also went into ecstasy over the blue convolvulus. This Western convolvulus had a warm yellow in its center. Around the centre there was an expanse of sad blue, inexpressively elegant and profound, while I was staring at it I felt consumed by the desire to plunge into the centre of convolvulus. The desire to plunge to one’s death into the centre of the flower, a deep longing for blue, was this not the original expression of the emotion that drove many young people to travel?

4  At school the teacher used to say blue is for boys and pink is for girls. I hate the notion of dividing things up like this. When I looked around, everything – the sewing boxes, the calligraphy tools – was like this. But I don’t like pink. As soon as I realized this, my mind was made up. I realized that amongst all the girls in the class, my sewing box was the only blue one.

Blue – you were the colour of my first modest resistance, for me who is a girl, you were a truly noble colour that gave me the first whiff of freedom.

5  Aren’t I Hakozaki? Isn’t Hakozaki me? We love blue.
A tanka poet, a youth who I met yesterday talked about Izumi Shikibu with a bead of sweat on the tip of his nose
‘Remembering you . . .
The fireflies of this marsh
seem like sparks
that rise
from my body’s longing’*
In the white of the boy’s eye there was a faint touch of blue.

深い青についての箱崎

深い青についての箱崎

深い青色をした花ほど、箱崎一郎の心をとらえるものはなかった

ある日のこと
駅前で友人を待っているときに
ふと目が近くの花壇にいったのだ
そこに偶然
小さな青い花が群生していた
自分の視線が
掃除機にかけられたようにそこへ吸い込まれ
箱崎はなにごとが起こったのかわからなかった

青は
箱崎の粘膜を突き破り
氾濫した川のように箱崎のうちへ及ぶ
言葉という言葉はことごとく溺死した
深い沈黙ののちに釣り上げられたのは
小魚のような感嘆符だけだった

ああ、
なんと深い青、
と箱崎はおもった

声をあげて泣いてしまいたいほどの
するどい悲しみに襲われたのはそのときである
悲しむ理由などひとつもなかったし
こんな駅前で
突然泣くわけにはいかないと
箱崎はぐっとこらえたものの
自分がいま
生まれたばかりの赤ん坊になったような気持ちがした
この世に出てきて初めて見た青い花

それは一瞬の
衝動とも言える感情のうごきであり
パッションというものからほど遠い箱崎が
そのときほど自分におどろいたことはない

たかが色
たかが青色

しかし箱崎は取り乱していた
心臓が
しめつけられ
花のなかへすぐさま飛び込んでしまいたいと思った
それはまったく
花との恋愛、そのものだった
「箱崎、待たせたな」
そう言って肩をたたいた、あとからやってきた友人によれば
箱崎はそのとき
どことなくゆがんだ顔をしていて
青い花がどうのこうのと言っていたらしい
それは実際のところ
物凄く頼りない
赤ん坊のようなふるまいであったということだ

後日談−

1  その後の箱崎についてはなにも知らない。

2  アジア人は、新生児のとき、尻付近に蒙古斑が現われる。水彩絵具を水で梳いたような、極めて薄い青のしるし。身体のうちに、我々は、そもそも青を持っている。
足の付け根のリンパ腺のところに、子供のころの私は、アーモンド型の蒙古斑を持っていた。風呂場では、自分のそれと、妹のそれとを見比べたものだ。かたちも色も、妹の蒙古斑は、自分のとは少し違っていた。いまでは、身体のどこにも、見あたらないが、いつ、どこでどんなふうに消えていってしまったのか。

3  ある日私は、庭の青い昼顔をねっしんにのぞきこみながら、ふと、自分が、人間のまたぐらをのぞきこんでいるような気がした。植物のいのちはスクリューのように回転しながら、見るもののいのちの深部に触れてくる。
私もまた、箱崎のように、青い昼顔に夢中になった。この西洋昼顔は、芯にあたたかな黄色を持っている。そしてそのまわりには、あの悲しいほどの青色が幽玄とひろがり、じっと見ていると私もまた、昼顔のなかへ飛び込んでしまいたいと思いつめた。花のなかへの投身自殺、青への思慕、それは、昔から、たくさんの若者たちをして旅へと赴かせた感情の原形ではなかったか。

4  男の子は青、女の子は桃色、学校では先生がそのように言う。振り分けられるっていやな気分。裁縫箱も、お習字の道具も、見渡せばみんながそんなふう。でも、私はピンクが好きじゃない。そう思ったとたん、心が決まる。気がつけば、クラスの女の子のなかで、私の裁縫箱だけがブルーだった。
青—おまえは女の子であった私の、いっとう始めのささやかな抵抗の色であり、自由というものの匂いを暗示した、誠に気高い色だった。

5  私は箱崎ではないだろうか。箱崎は私ではないだろうか。私たちは青に恋をする人間。
昨日出会った短歌を詠む少年は、玉の汗を鼻頭にかき、和泉式部について語った。
「物思へば沢の蛍もわが身よりあくがれいずる魂かとぞ見る」
しろめの部分が、薄く青みがかった少年だった。
Close

Hakozaki on Deep Blue

Nothing captured Hakozaki Ichirô’s heart as much as deep blue flowers

One day
When he was waiting in front of the station for a friend
By chance his eye fell upon a nearby flower bed
There quite by accident
A mass of small blue flowers was growing
His line of vision
As if harvested by a vacuum cleaner was sucked into it
Hakozaki could not understand what had happened

Blue
Pierced Hakozaki’s mucus membranes
Like an overflowing river it
Encroached upon his interior
Without exception every word that he possessed was drowned
After the profound silence only an exclamation mark
Was hoisted up like a small fish

Ah,
How deep was the blue,
Thought Hakozaki

It was at that time when he was assailed by a sharp grief
That made him want to weep loudly
There was no reason for this grief
In front of the station like this
He thought I should not break into tears all of a sudden
The self that Hakozaki had
Stifled firmly now
Turned him into
A newborn baby

Blue flowers the first thing the baby had seen since its birth

This was an instantaneous
Movement of emotion, an impulse
Far away from that thing called passion Hakozaki
Had never been as shocked by his own actions as then

It was only a colour
It was only blue

But Hakozaki was distraught
In his chest
There was a tightness
He felt as if he wanted to dive into the flowers
It was truly
That he was in love with the flowers, exactly that

‘Hakozaki, sorry for being late’
According to his friend who had said this, and then tapped him on the shoulder from behind
Hakozaki at that time
With a somewhat contorted face
Appeared to be saying something about blue flowers
In fact
It was the behaviour of a
Completely helpless baby

The sequel –

1  What befell Hakozaki after that I don’t know.

2  When Asians are newborn a blue spot appears near their buttocks. It’s a very pale blue mark like paint dissolved in water. We have blue in our bodies from the beginning.
When I was a child, on the lymphatic glands on my groin I had an almond-shaped blue spot. In the bath I used to compare mine with my little sister’s. In colour and appearance my little sister’s blue spot was slightly different. Now I can’t find it anywhere, I wonder when, where and how it disappeared?

3 Once I used to stare feverishly at a blue convolvulus in my garden and I felt as if I was peeking at someone’s crotch. Plant life revolves like a screw and bores into the depth of the life of the person who is observing it. 

Like Hakozaki I also went into ecstasy over the blue convolvulus. This Western convolvulus had a warm yellow in its center. Around the centre there was an expanse of sad blue, inexpressively elegant and profound, while I was staring at it I felt consumed by the desire to plunge into the centre of convolvulus. The desire to plunge to one’s death into the centre of the flower, a deep longing for blue, was this not the original expression of the emotion that drove many young people to travel?

4  At school the teacher used to say blue is for boys and pink is for girls. I hate the notion of dividing things up like this. When I looked around, everything – the sewing boxes, the calligraphy tools – was like this. But I don’t like pink. As soon as I realized this, my mind was made up. I realized that amongst all the girls in the class, my sewing box was the only blue one.

Blue – you were the colour of my first modest resistance, for me who is a girl, you were a truly noble colour that gave me the first whiff of freedom.

5  Aren’t I Hakozaki? Isn’t Hakozaki me? We love blue.
A tanka poet, a youth who I met yesterday talked about Izumi Shikibu with a bead of sweat on the tip of his nose
‘Remembering you . . .
The fireflies of this marsh
seem like sparks
that rise
from my body’s longing’*
In the white of the boy’s eye there was a faint touch of blue.

Hakozaki on Deep Blue

Nothing captured Hakozaki Ichirô’s heart as much as deep blue flowers

One day
When he was waiting in front of the station for a friend
By chance his eye fell upon a nearby flower bed
There quite by accident
A mass of small blue flowers was growing
His line of vision
As if harvested by a vacuum cleaner was sucked into it
Hakozaki could not understand what had happened

Blue
Pierced Hakozaki’s mucus membranes
Like an overflowing river it
Encroached upon his interior
Without exception every word that he possessed was drowned
After the profound silence only an exclamation mark
Was hoisted up like a small fish

Ah,
How deep was the blue,
Thought Hakozaki

It was at that time when he was assailed by a sharp grief
That made him want to weep loudly
There was no reason for this grief
In front of the station like this
He thought I should not break into tears all of a sudden
The self that Hakozaki had
Stifled firmly now
Turned him into
A newborn baby

Blue flowers the first thing the baby had seen since its birth

This was an instantaneous
Movement of emotion, an impulse
Far away from that thing called passion Hakozaki
Had never been as shocked by his own actions as then

It was only a colour
It was only blue

But Hakozaki was distraught
In his chest
There was a tightness
He felt as if he wanted to dive into the flowers
It was truly
That he was in love with the flowers, exactly that

‘Hakozaki, sorry for being late’
According to his friend who had said this, and then tapped him on the shoulder from behind
Hakozaki at that time
With a somewhat contorted face
Appeared to be saying something about blue flowers
In fact
It was the behaviour of a
Completely helpless baby

The sequel –

1  What befell Hakozaki after that I don’t know.

2  When Asians are newborn a blue spot appears near their buttocks. It’s a very pale blue mark like paint dissolved in water. We have blue in our bodies from the beginning.
When I was a child, on the lymphatic glands on my groin I had an almond-shaped blue spot. In the bath I used to compare mine with my little sister’s. In colour and appearance my little sister’s blue spot was slightly different. Now I can’t find it anywhere, I wonder when, where and how it disappeared?

3 Once I used to stare feverishly at a blue convolvulus in my garden and I felt as if I was peeking at someone’s crotch. Plant life revolves like a screw and bores into the depth of the life of the person who is observing it. 

Like Hakozaki I also went into ecstasy over the blue convolvulus. This Western convolvulus had a warm yellow in its center. Around the centre there was an expanse of sad blue, inexpressively elegant and profound, while I was staring at it I felt consumed by the desire to plunge into the centre of convolvulus. The desire to plunge to one’s death into the centre of the flower, a deep longing for blue, was this not the original expression of the emotion that drove many young people to travel?

4  At school the teacher used to say blue is for boys and pink is for girls. I hate the notion of dividing things up like this. When I looked around, everything – the sewing boxes, the calligraphy tools – was like this. But I don’t like pink. As soon as I realized this, my mind was made up. I realized that amongst all the girls in the class, my sewing box was the only blue one.

Blue – you were the colour of my first modest resistance, for me who is a girl, you were a truly noble colour that gave me the first whiff of freedom.

5  Aren’t I Hakozaki? Isn’t Hakozaki me? We love blue.
A tanka poet, a youth who I met yesterday talked about Izumi Shikibu with a bead of sweat on the tip of his nose
‘Remembering you . . .
The fireflies of this marsh
seem like sparks
that rise
from my body’s longing’*
In the white of the boy’s eye there was a faint touch of blue.
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