Classic Poem

Near Lake Suwa in Shinshu,
I visited a distant relative.

The old woman I hadn't seen for years was ill,
had lost words,
and was lying quietly.

The ridge showed the rises and falls of the many years
of bringing up eight children —
where its small span ended,
the dent in her round buttocks, from there
she dropped a lively steaming form.

I climbed to the height, Tsuetsuki Pass,
the Hachigatake range opened into view;
the snow-cloaked mountains
lay in the distance.

The coldness of the white underwear that the winter had her change into,
the warmth of her flesh showing under its collar —
my hands believed in them, somehow:
naked trees growing fluffily like down,
clouds rising in the valley.

I found myself standing
at an overlook commanding two natures.
Under the clear sky
I pinched my nose and put up with the large beautiful thing.