Students of Hondori



    المساهمات : 496
    تاريخ التسجيل : 14/09/2010

    Students of Hondori

    مُساهمة  Admin في الإثنين أبريل 15, 2013 9:17 pm

    Translated by Abdul Monem Nasser
    Edited by Mark Pirie

    Hondori lies in the womb of the city.
    In gift paper, history is sold;
    philosophy is displayed on questioning shelves
    and memoirs are open to all.
    The cries of sellers there
    awaken in me an adoration for an ancient land
    where jewels are words, river water is sold in jars
    and sea scent covers the stalls.
    Here fields are awake, waiting for mouths, vast as a desert.
    Numerous temples yet to be consecrated by monks
    are for sale en masse
    bringing tranquillity to homes.
    The samurais are dolls for kids,
    their swords are stadiums of rust.

    In a small cage
    the Emperor sits with his wife.
    I take him home with me.
    For a small price you can buy any prince
    and an entourage too.
    Creatures from the past are stuffed in baskets and balconies,
    tiny ships forgotten by pirates
    and pirates small as the palm of your hand.
    Miniature kingdoms exist and empires, armies and invaders,
    while lovers feeding love with their blood
    give the rivers their totem flames
    for commemoration of the dropping of the bomb.
    Pillars pregnant with notices seduce the wind.
    Pictures cover walls and shops
    with traces of histories not wiped out by rain as yet.
    Words cover walkways
    and at its waistline
    Rome stands
    its armies lost, glories vanquished.
    Now its retreat is a kitchen.

    Overhead, a model of
    an atomic bomb retires in shame.
    Great masses of people are still
    unaware of the hell it spewed 62 years ago
    while down below, skyscrapers rise high
    confusing you, with their architecture
    like Assyrian bulls guarding their city
    from the reckless typhoons of September.

    In the morning students enter Hondori.
    At midday they court, have fun, and join in matrimony.
    In the afternoon they carry their kids to shop or pray.
    In the evening they walk with sticks,
    their teeth are like rolled cigarettes,
    revealed by the lips of their mouths as they smile.
    At night they carry their dwellings on their backs
    picking up what oblivion gives away...

    Hondori, a market,
    unrolls its dreams in the heart of Hiroshima.
    A rainbow conceals it from the sky.
    Passers-by are unaware
    that the god of light discharges its medals onto them.
    The rain above stretches and rests till lasting drowsiness.
    Hiroshima’s God made it his eternal morning,
    a lantern for lovers and a gate of hope for the lost.
    Doorsteps are blessed by its dust.
    Every corner of the city points towards it.
    My habit is to take refuge there,
    while the dew of golden domes clings to my forehead.

    Hiroshima, October 2007

    Author’s Note:
    Hondori, in Hiroshima, Japan, was prior to the dropping of the atomic bomb in 1945 the main shopping street of Hiroshima. Today it’s a major covered shopping avenue.

      الوقت/التاريخ الآن هو الأحد يناير 20, 2019 10:59 am