At that time, I first learned how to tick time away.
On the chest of that man,
to his tempo,
beating as fast something about to break,
as silent as something about to die.
I was pulled around by his fickle tempo,
exhausted, and worn out.
And that man threw me away like trash.
Covered with dust, I stopped ticking.
This is the man who picked me up,
taught me again ho to tick time away.
In his warm bosom,
I have been leading a routine life,
ticking time away 24 hours a day.
“It is better this way. This is my destiny, my duty.”
But, I sometimes daydream…
That gasping, that thrilling, that throbbing…
“Once again, I wish I could breathe on his chest,
at his tempo!”
In an emptiness of transition from today to tomorrow.
1963
Even a plain instrument,
even a precious instrument,
it will be awakened to its own life,
only when it gets a good player.
Being embraced in his broad breast,
being played by his delicacy,
it will first listen to its own music.
“Oh! Such a beautiful music can be drawn out of me!”
Once it hears charm of herself, it will never forget it.
“Once again I want to hear that music again.”
It will pine for the player, magic hands.
1963
Ever since the God blew his breath over me,
I have grown up so big,
absorbing both beauty and dirty in this world.
Soon, I started wondering,
“Who is the man one of whose ribs I was made of?”
I started looking around, longing for my old nest.
There were some times I got exhausted
chasing mirages.
There were occasions to moisten my thirst
at the temporary oasis,
which I well knew was not my old nest.
At the age of 26, now,
I happened to have met you.
Look! How big have I grown as one of your rib bones.
I try in vain to return to my old nest, your ribcage,
which I finally found after a long journey.
Today, too,
I repeat efforts in vain,
to melt in yourself.
1965