On July 24, 2010, Brian Birdsell(McSherry) sent me an e-mail, contributing a collection of haiku about winter.
According to his self-introduction,
Brian McSherry has lived in Chicago, San Francisco, Prague, Italy and currently lives in Iwate, northern Japan. He has lived there for over 6 years and enjoys spending time with his daughter, hiking in the mountains of Tohoku, writing, and traveling. He has a background in linguistics and teaches English at a private high school in Iwate.
On January 25, 2013, I received an e-mail from Brian Birdsell(McSherry) after a long absence.
Hidenori –
It has been a long time since we last corresponded! Hope all is well in Akita and the world of haiku! Last year I moved up to Hirosaki to start working at Hirosaki University. The snow relentlessly falls here – good for a skier like myself, but endless shoveling.
Brian Birdsell
Here is a photo of volunteer students at Hirosaki University.
Here are haiku about winter by Brian Birdsell(McSherry) with my Japanese translations too.
Winter
To know winter is
when everyone else withdraws
you become alive
冬
冬を知っていることは
他のみんなが引き下がるとき
あなたは生きるということです
Piles of books amass
on my shelves
if only
they too were like leaves
たくさんの本が積まれている
本棚の上に
ただ
本も葉のようであればいいなあ
The rosemary pot
blows over
scattering off
little drops of fall
ローズマリーの鉢が
静まる
まき散らしながら
秋の小さな滴を
The river sounds
just
enough on the stone’s back –
that
I slip on the moon
川の音が聞こえる
ちょうど
岩の背後に十分に ―
私は月に見とれて滑って転ぶ
Winter swans convene –
fresh white sheets blowing
on a clothesline
冬の白鳥が集まる ―
新しい白のシーツが吹かれて動いている
物干し網の上で
Fiery sunset –
the last maple leaf falling
time to gain some weight
火のような夕焼け ―
最後のモミジの葉が散っている
いくらかの重みを得る時
at Yakumo Shrine (八雲神社)
A neglected shrine –
on the edge of town
only
the moon visits it
放置されいる神社 ―
町外れに
ただ
月だけが訪れる
December rain
how sad the skis are
ignored
in the corridor
12月の雨
スキーにはなんて不運なことか
無視されて
廊下に
In opposing ways
I move
you move
the sparrow
flies beyond our sight
反対のように
私は動く
あなたが動く
雀は
見えない方に
Riverside willows
droop
touching the winter ice –
frozen tears perhaps
川べりの柳
しだれている
冬の氷に触れる ―
凍てついた涙 おそらく
Writing with charcoal
through the night
until my hand
turns to ash
チャコールで書いている
夜通し
手が
灰になるまで
The morning sun cuts
into the bedroom –
how cold
the nights have become
朝の太陽が切り進む
寝室の中へ ―
なんて寒く
夜がなっていくことか
End of the year wind
on my veranda
yet some leaves remain
年末の風
私のベランダの上に
まだ葉がいくつか残っている
Tired old men drunk
and unsatisfied
darkness –
shards of broken glass
疲れた老人たちが酔っ払っている
そして満ち足りていない
夜
割れたグラスの破片
Iwate Mountain
emerges
first snow fall coats
the old lava field
岩手山
現れる
初の降雪が覆う
古い溶岩の野原を
Making snow lanterns
the light jumps out –
winter
fireflies
雪灯篭を作る
光が飛び出る ―
冬の蛍
The next posting ‘Haiku by Brian McSherry (6)’ appears on February 16.
― Hidenori Hiruta
I lived in Hirosaki for four years long, long ago, as a student in Hirosaki University. So Brian’s haiku suddenly reminded me of countless miscellaneous memories I had in my university life in that beautiful city–those memories I shared with my friends in the dormitory called Hokuoryo located near a tiny apple orchard in Gakuen-cho.