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曰くことばは
まだ紙の上で眠り
朝の霧だけが
その意味を知っていた
The spoken words
still slept upon the page,
and only the morning mist
knew what they meant.
囲まれた木は
急がず空を見る
霧は静かに集まり
答えを急かさない
The enclosed tree
looked upward without haste.
Mist gathered quietly,
never demanding an answer.
幾世紀の雨が
石を撫で続けても
その沈黙だけは
変わらなかった
Though centuries of rain
stroked the stone,
its silence remained
unchanged.
錆びた門は
開くことを忘れたが
時を守る術を
覚えていた
The rusted gate
forgot how to open,
yet remembered
how to keep time.
谷の家々を
朝霧が結ぶ
遠く離れていても
同じ朝の中
Morning mist joined
the homes in the valley.
Though far apart,
they shared the same dawn.
灯りは一つずつ
小さく揺れていた
けれど気づけば
ひとつの光になっていた
Each lantern flickered
on its own,
yet somehow
they became a single glow.
ひとつの足跡が
次の足跡を呼ぶ
波の届かぬ場所で
理由が生まれていた
One footprint
called forth another.
Beyond the reach of waves,
a reason was born.
雨の道で
二つの傘が触れあう
顔は見えずとも
心は並んでいた
On a rainy road
two umbrellas touched.
Though no faces were seen,
their hearts walked together.
湯気は空へ
茶は胸へ
その短い旅に
静かな温もりがある
Steam rose to the sky,
tea descended within.
In that brief journey
lived a quiet warmth.
雨上がりの庭を
石道が奥へ続く
霧の向こうには
まだ見ぬ静寂
A stone path wound inward
through the rain-washed garden.
Beyond the mist
waited an unseen silence.
水面に落ちた一滴は
輪となって広がる
出来事もまた
そうして巡ってゆく
A single drop
spread into circles.
So too do events
travel outward through time.
誰も立たぬ壇に
風だけが訪れる
まだ語られぬ言葉が
そこで待っていた
No one stood upon the platform.
Only the wind arrived.
Unspoken words
waited there.
夕暮れの灯が
雨道を照らす
小さな店には
帰るような温もり
An evening lantern
lit the rainy street.
Within the small shop
was the warmth of returning.
少し開いた扉から
光が差し込む
忘れられた時が
まだ息をしていた
Through the partly opened door
light entered softly.
Forgotten years
still breathed within.
雨を映した水鉢に
雲が静かに浮かぶ
その沈黙こそが
庭の声
Clouds drifted quietly
within the stone basin.
That silence itself
was the voice of the courtyard.
長い廊下を
光が歩いてゆく
権威ではなく
秩序のために
Light walked
the long corridor,
not for authority,
but for order.
月明かりが
床板に眠る
休みとは
何もしない勇気
Moonlight rested
upon the floorboards.
Rest is the courage
to do nothing.
海風に揺れる麻は
急ぐことを知らない
繰り返す動きの中に
自然の拍子
The hemp swayed
in the sea wind,
finding rhythm
in repetition.
水は流れ
石は磨かれる
積み重ねた歳月が
刃より鋭い
Water flowed,
the stone was worn smooth.
Years of practice
sharpened more than any blade.
静かな湖に
紅の葉が浮かぶ
すべての旅は
ここで静かに沈む
Upon the quiet lake
floated a crimson leaf.
Every journey
came gently to rest here.