I often fall asleep at night with the words on, then even
in my sleep I wander around looking for warm words like
cotton clothes. It’s been fifty-three years since I started
writing poetry. I have tried to make a set of clothes that can
withstand the cold wind with every stitch. I have tried to
write poems like the sound of rain falling on sesame leaves,
the wind blowing through reeds, the green leaves where bugs
sleep, the first flower buds hanging from the tips of branches,
apricot blossoms that I see when I get off at a small station,
I have tried to write poems like a scarf knitted by my own
hands after picking up the fallen stitches, like the warmth of
a blanket that I put my frozen hands in when I come back
from school on a cold day. It’s still unfinished, please wait.
For this small promise, I will walk steadily without resting for
the rest of my days. Even though my steps are slow, I will go
toward you, soothing my sore feet, if you just wait, if you just
endure and wait.
--- p.17 「My Poetry」 중에서

The word poetry breaks my ears open in a flash,
scales I had never heard before are reborn.
The wind bringing a congratulatory address,
the clouds reading a farewell address then leaving,
the green willow leaves of the reservoir waking up
and a tray of sunlight
rustling as it asks me to put something in it.
The blades of grass that have shaken off dew bring noon.
Someone keeps throwing the future in front of him.
A bouquet of words
brings to birth a constellation that was not there before.
A heart that asks where beauty is
is that beauty.
The shoes are heading toward a new life.
--- p.67 「The word poetry」 중에서

No matter how much I sing, the stars are not happy.
No matter how much I dance, the butterflies are not happy

I walked alone to meet joy.
The wild flowers frowned, asking to be called by my name.
The weight of sorrow cannot be measured
even if I hold it in my hand.

But today, I am happy alone.

I got a letter saying that after reading my poems,
you hugged the book tightly,
copied out a line, then fell asleep.
--- p.85

The dream of the grass seed

I was buried under the asphalt.
I want to see the sunlight,
I want to hear the cicadas and the cranes,
I'm hungry.
I live only on water.
It's been a year since I started living here.
Kick me out.
I want to go out into the world
with green leaves
and bloom pretty flower buds like ribbons.
Can you hear my voice?
I won't cry.
Kick
this hard asphalt.
Please.
--- p.105 「Sorrow to joy」 중에서

What I am writing is called the present.
The present is alive.

This is the truth

And
my everything.