on the bed in her tiny room,
she can be free.
she wears a necklace of loneliness,
a ring of disappointment,
and clothes of repentance.
every night,
she falls asleep, feeling thorns of what she wears.
her routine is like punishment to burn her soul.
her routine is like a drug to make her keep living.
she can see a lake in the desert.
she can listen songs of tiny birds in serenity of darkness.
she can touch the warmth of the moon in a cocoon of coldness.
she can fall asleep with relief that childhood her wanted to feel.
in darkness,
i wanna be the light.
i would rather be the light than be given the light.
so, i’m always in darkness.
i’m crouching in darkness,
accumulate energy to be the light in darkness,
and then,
still i’m in darkness.
i have never heard the sound of flowing blood.
although i know the warm touch,
i don’t know the sound like someone’s scream.
i have never heard the sound of circulating blood.
although i know the macabre red,
i don’t know the sound like wolves’ howl.
Hey,
do you know that there is hate even in me?
But after my death,
hate changes to just ash.
It might sink to the sea,
or it might become the energy of trees.
Hey,
do you know that even hate changes to ash?
After my death,
hate changes to just ash.
So, I keep it only in my heart
until the day when it changes to floating ash.
Because I don’t want everyone to see how ugly it is.
Because I don’t want everyone to see how miserable it is.
Because I want to see its end only by my eyes.
she draws dawn at midnight,
and draws midnight in dawn.
she tries not to see view that everyone sees.
she tries not to feel hope that everyone feels.
she wears loneliness,
and falls asleep, hugging midnight.
she lives at midnight,
and dies in dawn.
バスケットコートは広すぎて、
私の心は狭すぎる。
片付けられるのを待っている、
古びたボールが私を睨む。
私の心はあのボール。
みんなの心はあのコート。
歩み寄るなど不可能で、
癒やし合うなど無意味なの。
孤独とはなにかを知りたくて、
みんなと一緒にいるだけだ。
私の心はあのボール。
みんなの心はあのコート。
夜が私を待っている。
片付けられるのを待つように。
朝は私を切り捨てる。
みんなの大きな心のように。
the soft sunlight from the sole window
makes me feel spring.
momentarily,
a chain that ties my heart breaks.
in spring,
my desire and despair
are meaningless.
i’m just cocooned in spring.
i’m just listening to whispers of tiny birds.
even if i die,
spring never dies.
even if i keep living,
spring is spring.
i can’t be a part of spring,
but spring is always a part of me.
Dear great spring,
please be my friend just for today.
before spring comes,
i must imagine spring
so that i decide whether i go back to winter or not.
if spring that i imagined is so cruel,
i will hug winter eternally.
if spring that i imagined is so hopeful,
i will be wrapped in spring unconditionally.
breeze that I feel with you
reminds me of spring noon,
even when now is cold night.
the curtain makes a shape of the warmest memory with you,
and leads me to the happiest moment.
listening to your heartbeats,
i leave every inch of me to breeze like velvet.
Poetry and Me, Sometimes Coffee 