When I turned to look back

Over the Waters

The sky was birdless.


Men were, are born.

Do I still live?  I ask myself,

Munching a sweet potato.


Don’t smell of death,

Don’t cast its shadow.

Any woman, when I glance her way,

Looks down

Unable to stand it.

Men, as if dead,

Turn up the whites of their eyes.


Get rid of those trashy ideas–

The same thing

Runs through both of us.

My thought moves the world:

I move, it moves.

I crook my arm, the world’s crooked.


–Shinkichi Takahashi