River

by Shuntaro Tanikawa

River 

Mother, 

Why is the river laughing? 

Why, because the sun is tickling the river

Mother, 

Why is the river singing? 

Because the skylark praised the river's voice

Mother, 

Why is the river cold? 

It remembers being once loved by the snow. 

Mother, 

How old is the river? 

It's the same age as the forever young

springtime. 

Mother, 

Why does the river never rest? 

Well, you see it's because the mother sea

Is waiting for the river to come home. 

Grass

So, coming one day

from somewhere,

suddenly I was standing on the grass;

and because my cellular memory signalled

unfinished business

I have a human shape,

And have even talked about happiness.

Something Lost 

I lost an utterly trivial item.

Nothing that would trouble me greatly not to have

nor something I associate with fond memories.

The corner store sells them should I want a replacement,

but, just the fact that it's no longer there

has turned all the drawers into eternal labyrinths

that I've already wandered for three hours or so.

At my wit's end, I retreat to the garden and look up to the evening sky

where near the eaves the first star has begun to shine.

What am I living for?

This quite unrelated doubt floats to mind.

It's been many decades since I considered it,

but surely there was never a satisfactory answer.

At least I can search for that item thoroughly, throw my clothes into disarray again—

thus I muster the courage to go back indoors and it strikes me-

will all my familiar household items perish in the thin veil of darkness?