Saturday Poem

Toba 1

I have nothing to write about
My flesh is bared to the sun
My wife is beautiful
My children are healthy

Let me tell you the truth
I am not a poet
I just pretend to be one

I was created, and left here
Look, the sun cascades among the boulders
making the sea look darker

Other than this quiet at the height of the day
I have nothing I want to tell you about
even if you are bleeding in your country
Ah, this everlasting radiance!
.

by Shuntaro Tanikawa
from Tabi (Journey)
publisher: Kyuryudo, Tokyo, 1968

translation: Takako Lento
from The Art of Being Alone: Poems 1952–2009
Publisher: Cornell Univ.