LC #34

"Le vent froid de la mer serre ses narines et brûle ses yeux, la mer est immense, bleu-gris, tachée d'écume, elle gronde en sourdine, tandis que les lames courtes tombent sur la plaine de sable où se reflète le bleu presque noir du grand ciel."

「すばる」２０１８年３月号

「すばる」３月号完成。１２月のシンポジウム「火山のめぐみ」の記録を掲載していただきました。赤阪友昭（写真家）、大辻都（フランス語圏文学研究）、井上昭洋（文化人類学）、松田法子（領域史）、ドリアン助川（小説家）、大川景子（映像作家）、津田直（写真家）のみなさんが寄稿。ぼくは全体の簡単なイントロ。ふりかえっても、すばらしいシンポジウムでした。そして必ず、次につなげていかなくてはならない話ばかり。またやりましょう！参加者のみなさん、聴衆のみなさん、編集部のみなさん、ありがとうございました。

Spanish Lessons #33

"Tal vez el amor y la naturaleza fueron desde muy temprano los yacimientos de mi poesía." (Neruda)

LC #33

"Les paroles sont de la musique. Les paroles ne disent pas ce qu'elles disent, ce qu'elles ont l'air de dire. Elles volent, elles glissent, elles font leur bruit doux."

My Dog Papyrus

My Dog Papyrus

Keijiro Suga

 

When I was a child I had a dog

We called him Papyrus, brindle-colored,

At my heels every where I went.

In early Spring, it was the black soil

Lightly covered in snow, under our feet.

The wind blew so cold we feared our ears might shear off.

I shouted, “We are the wintering party!”

Papyrus just gave me an amused look.

His ears standing like those of a wolf

His tail coiled like a tornado

His eyes sharp as light.

A half a century ago roundworms killed him.

Last summer in Ayutthaya, Thailand

I was sitting under a tree, tired after my walk

When an ochre-colored dog quietly approached

And sat gently by my side.

His muzzle sleek and black

I scratched him behind his ears.

His eyes narrowed, he seemed to smile

I called to him, “Papyrus”

And he languidly wagged his tail.

I’m waiting, you know, for you

At the foot of that mountain

When you head off towards its summit

I’ll keep you company

Papyrus here

All the things you hold within you

All the things you have forgotten

Papyrus will remember

(Translated by the author with Doug Slaymaker. First published in Japanese in The Yomiuri Shinbun, 26 January 2018.)

Spanish Lessons #32

"Combatíamos, a veces, en el gran galpón cerrado, con bellotas de encina. Nadie que no lo haya recibido sabe lo que duele un bellotazo." (Neruda)

LC #32

"C'est de la lumière que vient la lumière. Elle est en moi, elle bouge comme une flamme. Elle n'est pas le savoir, ni la conscience, ni rien de ce que le langage ou la raison peuvent donner. C'est une flamme, simplement, une flamme qui brûle et brille tout le temps à l'intérieur de mon corps."