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粗い器に 朝の光
飾らぬものほど 手になじむ
Morning light rests
upon the rough bowl—
the plainest things fit the hand best.
夕暮れの村に 煙が昇り
小さな窓から 灯りがこぼれる
Smoke rises softly
above the evening village—
warm light spills from tiny windows.
向かい合う手に
言葉より深い 静けさがある
Between joined hands
rests a silence
deeper than words.
古い机に 紙をひらけば
静かな時が また動き出す
Opening papers
upon the old desk—
quiet time begins moving again.
開かれた頁に 午後の光
遠い誰かの声が まだ残る
Afternoon light
falls on the open pages—
a distant voice still lingers there.
名もない服に 小さな札
誰かの記憶だけが 残されている
A small tag hangs
from the nameless dress—
only memory remains attached.
壁の暦は 静かに減り
机の紙だけが 積もってゆく
The wall calendar
quietly loses days—
only the papers continue to gather.
まだ来ぬ未来へ
小さな約束が 差し出される
Toward an unseen future
a small promise
is gently offered.
乾いた大地に 風だけが吹き
遠い雲さえ 立ち止まらない
Across the parched earth
only the wind continues—
even the clouds do not remain.
細い枝先に 春は眠り
まだ名もない日を 待っている
Spring sleeps quietly
within the thin branches—
waiting for unnamed days.
空へ伸びる 細い梢
終わりの先にも 光は続く
The narrow treetop
reaches into the sky—
light continues beyond the end.
白く霞んだ 木々のあいだ
答えは まだ姿を見せない
Between pale trees
blurred in the distance—
the answer still hides itself.
水しぶきだけが 陽を砕き
夏の声が 一瞬ひらく
A burst of water
shatters the sunlight—
summer opens for a moment.
湯気の向こうに 静かな食卓
懐かしさだけが 先に届く
Beyond the rising steam
rests a quiet table—
memory arrives before taste.
小さな手を引く 秋の道
背中に残るのは やさしい時間
Along the autumn road
a small hand is held—
gentle time remains behind them.
海に浮かぶ 朱の鳥居
夕空までも 静かに染まる
The vermilion gate
stands upon the water—
even the evening sky is dyed red.
切り株の上に 若芽が伸びる
終わりのあとにも 命は残る
From the old stump
a green shoot rises—
life remains after endings.
やわらかな芽が 風に揺れて
世界は まだ始まったばかり
The tender sprout
sways within the wind—
the world has only just begun.
草原を渡る 淡い風
名もない命が 静かに光る
A pale breeze crosses
the field of grass—
nameless lives glow quietly.
強い風に 草は伏しても
根だけは 土を離れない
Though the harsh wind
bends the grass low—
its roots never leave the earth.
