Toshiko Hirata
DISTANT SKY
In those days, there were still staircases
Climb them and you would reach high places
There were potted plants at the top of the stairs
And inside the pots, dark, dry earth
There were still fountains in the plazas
Sitting around that, people with nothing to do
In those days, there was an untrained but skilled doctor
Who gave us effective shots in the arm
Afterwards, we would always get fevers
But when they went down, the sickness went away too
There were still keyholes in the doors
Where the keys would work without sleep
In those days, I was alive
And that person was not dead
Touch him, and his lips were cold
And his gaze was even colder
There was a fence around the town
And beyond that, an unknown sky
It was easy to cross the fence
But impossible to go more than ten steps
MORE WORK IN ENGLISH BY TOSHIKO HIRATA
*
Atsusuke Tanaka
MALBORO
He had a tattoo.
Under his leather jacket, a solid, white T-shirt.
Don’t look at me.
I thought I didn’t live up.
There are lots of other young ones.
I am nothing to look at.
But he chose me.
Want to grab a cup of coffee?
He didn’t put in any cream?
So, you’re the same age as me.
He smoked a cigarette.
Only a single week of no smoking.
The name of the love hotel was
Under the Guava Tree.
Rain had soaked his socks.
Should’ve bought some new shoes sooner.
I took a shower with him.
His dick was white and beautiful.
Why am I writing this down in a poem?
Once and that’ll be all.
Just once and that’s okay, someone once said.
I didn’t go home right away.
That was true for both of us.
We both lingered on and on.
I was in Tokyo for seven years.
Our dicks had fallen.
They had fallen a long way.
It’s good if there are natural enemies for people.
There was nothing in Tokyo.
He looked as if there was nothing
And so he was here.
He was beautiful.
His back turned, he placed
On the table his can of cola
Half consumed.
No comments:
Post a Comment