山の童(こ)か雪冠(かぶ)る石点々と川のまなかに邪気なくゐたり
kids of the mountain?
lovely stones muffled
with snow
here and there innocently
... in the river
※
The river is in Okuoyasu, Yuzawa City, Akita, Japan.
©2019Rika Inami稲美 里佳
2019年2月6日水曜日
2019年2月5日火曜日
Tanka...All is empty / 一切空
一抹の光われをも透過して一切空の一日の幸
a bit of light
permeating through me
the happiest feeling
that all is empty
filling me
©2019Rika Inami稲美 里佳
※
My New Blog
Title name is the same.
2019年2月3日日曜日
Tanka ... Happy Birthday to Mendelssohn
<Happy Birthday to Mendelssohn / メンデルスゾーンの誕生日に>
This tanka is my reply to a Facebook friend.
天才の使命をになひ君成すは宙の旋律えがき奏でき
being blessed
with a mission of genius
you composed the chords of the universe
and played them
天才の使命をになひ君成すは宙の旋律えがき奏でき
being blessed
with a mission of genius
you composed the chords of the universe
and played them
※
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLcwPFiYcUE&list=RDJLcwPFiYcUE&start_radio=1&t=719
©2019Rika Inami 稲美 里佳
©2019Rika Inami 稲美 里佳
2019年1月31日木曜日
Tanka... Platform プラットフォーム
良き悪しき思ひ出こもるプラットフオーム刷新に悪しをはらふか
good and bad memories
being contained
in my platform ...
its renovation may keep
off evil
©2019Rika Inami 稲美 里佳
Tanka... Platform プラットフォーム
良き悪しき思ひ出こもるプラットフオーム刷新に悪しをはらふか
good and bad memories
being contained
in my platform ...
its renovation may keep
off evil
©2019Rika Inami 稲美 里佳
2019年1月29日火曜日
Tanka ... Snow Sanctuary 雪の聖壇
いや高く雪降り積みて天ちかく雪除（よ）する場の聖壇の如
the higher
snow falling and piling
the closer
a snow dumping place to the celestial
like a sanctuary
©2019Rika Inami
-----------------------------------------------------------
From Mr. Alberto Palomo
The following is Eduardo Galeano's poem.
*
The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying a dog and the nobodies dream of getting out from under their poverty, that some magic day suddenly good fortune will rain upon them that it will downpour bucket-fulls of good luck. But good luck doesn’t rain today or tomorrow or ever, not even a little drizzle falls from the sky. No matter how much the nobodies cry for it and even when their left hand itches or they get up on the right foot, or when they start the year getting a new broom. The nobodies: the sons of no one, the owners of nothing. The nobodies: treated as no one, running after the carrot, dying their lives, fucked, double-fucked. Who are not, even when they are. Who don’t speak languages, but rather dialects. Who don’t follow religions, but rather superstitions. Who don’t do art, but rather crafts. Who don’t practice culture, but rather folklore. Who are not human, but rather human resources. Who have no face but have arms, who have no name, but rather a number. Who don’t appear in the universal history books, but rather in the police pages of the local press. The nobodies, the ones who are worth less than the bullet that kills them. Eduardo Galeano
From Mr. Alberto Palomo
The following is Eduardo Galeano's poem.
*
The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying a dog and the nobodies dream of getting out from under their poverty, that some magic day suddenly good fortune will rain upon them that it will downpour bucket-fulls of good luck. But good luck doesn’t rain today or tomorrow or ever, not even a little drizzle falls from the sky. No matter how much the nobodies cry for it and even when their left hand itches or they get up on the right foot, or when they start the year getting a new broom. The nobodies: the sons of no one, the owners of nothing. The nobodies: treated as no one, running after the carrot, dying their lives, fucked, double-fucked. Who are not, even when they are. Who don’t speak languages, but rather dialects. Who don’t follow religions, but rather superstitions. Who don’t do art, but rather crafts. Who don’t practice culture, but rather folklore. Who are not human, but rather human resources. Who have no face but have arms, who have no name, but rather a number. Who don’t appear in the universal history books, but rather in the police pages of the local press. The nobodies, the ones who are worth less than the bullet that kills them. Eduardo Galeano
-----------------------------
Divine melodious
seasons
some harsh some mellow
inside the simplicity beauty lies
inside magic into One
©Miriam Strauss
--------------------------------
聖壇の如く積りし雪高く天まであると思う雪除け
©Ryuuji Suwa
※
聖壇のごと除雪車積みし雪高く天まであるか今日も降りきて (里佳)
Divine melodious
seasons
some harsh some mellow
inside the simplicity beauty lies
inside magic into One
©Miriam Strauss
--------------------------------
聖壇の如く積りし雪高く天まであると思う雪除け
©Ryuuji Suwa
※
聖壇のごと除雪車積みし雪高く天まであるか今日も降りきて (里佳)
Tanka ... Snow Sanctuary 雪の聖壇
いや高く雪降り積みて天ちかく雪除（よ）する場の聖壇の如
the higher
snow falling and piling
the closer
a snow dumping place to the celestial
like a sanctuary
©2019Rika Inami
-----------------------------------------------------------
From Mr. Alberto Palomo
The following is Eduardo Galeano's poem.
*
The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying a dog and the nobodies dream of getting out from under their poverty, that some magic day suddenly good fortune will rain upon them that it will downpour bucket-fulls of good luck. But good luck doesn’t rain today or tomorrow or ever, not even a little drizzle falls from the sky. No matter how much the nobodies cry for it and even when their left hand itches or they get up on the right foot, or when they start the year getting a new broom. The nobodies: the sons of no one, the owners of nothing. The nobodies: treated as no one, running after the carrot, dying their lives, fucked, double-fucked. Who are not, even when they are. Who don’t speak languages, but rather dialects. Who don’t follow religions, but rather superstitions. Who don’t do art, but rather crafts. Who don’t practice culture, but rather folklore. Who are not human, but rather human resources. Who have no face but have arms, who have no name, but rather a number. Who don’t appear in the universal history books, but rather in the police pages of the local press. The nobodies, the ones who are worth less than the bullet that kills them. Eduardo Galeano
From Mr. Alberto Palomo
The following is Eduardo Galeano's poem.
*
The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying a dog and the nobodies dream of getting out from under their poverty, that some magic day suddenly good fortune will rain upon them that it will downpour bucket-fulls of good luck. But good luck doesn’t rain today or tomorrow or ever, not even a little drizzle falls from the sky. No matter how much the nobodies cry for it and even when their left hand itches or they get up on the right foot, or when they start the year getting a new broom. The nobodies: the sons of no one, the owners of nothing. The nobodies: treated as no one, running after the carrot, dying their lives, fucked, double-fucked. Who are not, even when they are. Who don’t speak languages, but rather dialects. Who don’t follow religions, but rather superstitions. Who don’t do art, but rather crafts. Who don’t practice culture, but rather folklore. Who are not human, but rather human resources. Who have no face but have arms, who have no name, but rather a number. Who don’t appear in the universal history books, but rather in the police pages of the local press. The nobodies, the ones who are worth less than the bullet that kills them. Eduardo Galeano
-----------------------------
Divine melodious
seasons
some harsh some mellow
inside the simplicity beauty lies
inside magic into One
©Miriam Strauss
--------------------------------
聖壇の如く積りし雪高く天まであると思う雪除け
©Ryuuji Suwa
※
聖壇のごと除雪車積みし雪高く天まであるか今日も降りきて (里佳)
Divine melodious
seasons
some harsh some mellow
inside the simplicity beauty lies
inside magic into One
©Miriam Strauss
--------------------------------
聖壇の如く積りし雪高く天まであると思う雪除け
©Ryuuji Suwa
※
聖壇のごと除雪車積みし雪高く天まであるか今日も降りきて (里佳)
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