World Haiku Series 2020 (2)
Haiku by Adam Wahlfeldt
spring moon
singing her first lullaby
as a grandmother
春の月
初めての子守唄を歌っている
祖母として
day after sermon
slowly darkening
the rose petals
説教の翌日
ゆっくりと暮れていく
バラの花びら
a summer rainfall
as the mosquitos find my neck
the trout escapes
夏の降雨
蚊が私の首を見つけるとき
トラウトが逃げる
remembrance day
fathers old watch
still in service
命日
父の古い時計
まだ動いている
northern wind
birches autumn coats
wearing thinner
北風
白樺の秋のコート
シンナーを着用
calling mother
on the wire outside
a flock of crows
母親を呼んでいる
外の電線で
烏の群れ
eyelids heavy
weightless on my shoes
the spring dust
まぶたが重い
私の靴の上は無重力
春のほこり
a sleeping bag
under the streetlight
it’s not empty
寝袋
街灯の下
空ではない
morning after
the windstorm
— disorder
朝
暴風の後
散乱
fireplace lit
my shadow moves
more than I
暖炉が点火
私の影が動く
私よりも
―Translated by Hidenori Hiruta
Bio:
My name is Adam Wahlfeldt. I’m a forty-year-old financial reporter living in Sweden with my family.
I started writing haiku a few years ago, almost by accident on a napkin, waiting for a train in a bar at the Stockholm Central Station.
After that, I just kept going.
Since then, I’ve had some haikus published in Swedish publications and an anthology, and a few in English publications.
Birches are, for some reason, a recurring theme in my writing.
Beautiful haiku. Thanks.
Beautiful haiku. Thanks.
Gentle images! spring dust – a lovely, light touch.
Thank you.