invitation from wood and water
invitation from wood and water
Climbing up through the thick salal bush trail into the deep wood, the beautiful blue purple lake had suddenly appeared. A woman had swum very freely from edge to edge in the lake. Standing beside the lakeshore, I had watched the woman swimmer for a long time. It was déjà vu! My recurring dream had happened right here. In my dream the woman swimmer must be me.
Since then I have been dreaming of the woman swimmer in the lake. In summer, around 7 o’clock in the evening after finishing the day’s work, my friends and I went to the small lake. Pushing away the yellow lilies and pads to enter the center of the lake, we swam in the very quiet evening lake. Around 10 o’clock we went home. It was still light before sunset, we had enjoyed Canada’s long summer day.
Canada’s winter is dark. Lighting a candle in the dark morning, I am slowly catching my breath to revive myself from sleep. My bones are creaking like crying sounds and I remembered the pieces of animal bones I had collected in the wood. I place pieces of legs and joint regions on the floor. I put a small skull with one antler fragment on my palm. The jaw and the teeth are large. Living in the wood, animal bones appear like signs and they speak.
April, 2014
おい茂るサラウを掻き分けて登っていった森の奥に、突然現れた美しい青紫色の湖。その岸辺から岸辺まですいすいと泳いでいる女性を見た。あっ！déjà vu(既視感) 夢で見た事が現実に起こっている。湖を自由に泳ぐ女性は私ではないかと湖岸に立って見続けた。
それから私は湖を泳ぐ女性を夢見続けている。夏は、一日の仕事を終えた夕方7時ごろ、友人達と小さな湖へ出かけ、湖畔に咲く睡蓮の黄色い花や大きな葉の群れを押し分けて人の少ない静かな湖で泳いだ。まだ陽の落ちない10時ごろ家へ帰り、カナダの夏の長い一日を楽しんだ。
カナダの冬は暗い。朝起きてキャンドルを灯し、目覚めの呼吸を整える。骨がきしむ。自分の骨のきしみで数年前に森で拾った一塊の動物の骨を思い出した。バラバラになった足の骨や関節を床に並べた。私の掌に載る一本角の小さな頭蓋骨、顎や歯は大きい。森の中に生きる動物の骨が記号のように現れ、言葉を発している。
2014年 4月 河野優三枝
I LOST MY HAT IN THE FOREST
I lost my hat in the forest
Having climbed to the summit of a small mountain, four hikers and I continued to move deeper into a forest. We pushed through woods where the vegetation was dense and branches and leaves slapped against our faces and bodies. Some distance along the trail, we came upon a wide river where a big log formed a makeshift bridge. I followed one of the other hikers, who started across on his hands and knees, holding onto the log’s broken branches as he went. When it was my turn, I crossed slowly noticing the murmur of the river and feeling fearful of falling into the water. Then, suddenly, a gust of wind snatched my hat. It went flying away and, to my dismay, was swept downstream. For almost 20 years, that had been my favorite hat. Now, it had disappeared into the forest.
帽子を森の中で失くした
一つの山を越えて頂に出て来たハイキングの仲間四人と私は、もっと探検しようと奥深い山の中へ入って行った。木が生い茂り、小枝や葉が私達の顔や身体にからみつく森の中をかきわけていった。途中大きな丸太が川の上に渡してある所に来た。一人が丸太の上をいざりながら渡り出したので私も続いた。川のせせらぎの音が聞こえるなか、すべって落ちないようにゆっくりと川の半分も進んだ頃、突然風が吹き、嗚呼、私の帽子がふわりと飛んでしまった。下を見ると私の帽子はすでにどんどん押し流されて行く。もう二十年位何かにつけ愛用していた帽子が森の中で消えてしまった。
2016年
my mother's garden
my mother's garden
My mother built a small, simple house in the suburbs, where she could grow a garden. She took care of her garden passionately, commuting back and forth to her home in the city. When she passed away 21years ago, I took a photograph of her garden. I have lived with this image for many years. A few years ago, on the west side of my house, I also made a vegetable garden and, on east side, a flower garden. Now, from summer to autumn, white and pink Japanese Anemone grow taller than my own height. Having tea or lunch in my garden, I feel solitude.
2016, Oct
母の庭
母は郊外に、簡単な小屋のような家を建て、町の家から通って庭作りに精出していた。二十一年前に亡くなった時、母の庭の写真を撮って、随分長い間、その写真を眺めて暮らした。現在、私も西側に野菜畑、東側に花のある庭を作り長くなる。夏から秋にかけて咲く白色やピンク色の秋明菊は私の背の高さ以上に伸びる。庭で花を眺めながらお茶や食事したりするのは、外の空気や風を受けて孤独を感じる。
2016年 河野優三枝
