East Asia I - John Ravenswood (J. Slauerhoff)

From: Oost-Azie – 1^ste druk 1928 -  Uitgeverij De Gemeenschap, Utrecht

Autumn

Vines droop and their blossoms, withering,
Shudder away from the deadly calm lake.
Hues drift there, horrifying
Tender.
 
Pine trees that reach to the shore
Stare in dismay at their visible shadow,
That hangs in the water, refusing to yield
With a ripple to the sky.
 
Enemies recoiled, we no longer know
To which arms to devote courage,
Life on the island in the lake must
Mull it over or run before the wind.
 
Shall we never embrace again?
Our skins’ trembling downs
Forgotten in heavy furs’ slumber,
Winter in the forest, eternal autumn in us?

Nagoya castle

Like a ship in eternity anchored
Lies far from the shores the castle in the lake,
The world averted, here unchanged
The realm of forest and water and of old.
 
Now the eternal wanderer wishes to cross,
To preserve his calm in the midst of the lake,
Whose surface the skittish winds flee,
On which no calyxes float, from whose depths
The walls rise, steep and closed
Without a gate, sunken are the boats...

Uyemo Park, Tokyo
 
The children leave their colourful play
And leave the park timid and abandoned behind.
The birds keep silent around an old guard,
Only the crickets chirp quick and shrill.
 
The green and red foliage equally fade.
A flickering light awakens in bronze lamps.
Evening comes subdued, shrouded in mists
Closer, like an assassin in a hall.
 
But solemnly drawn bells are rung
And long sacred tones drone
Above it by and the stern prayers of the priests,
Protected by the night in the shrine.

Inland Sea
 
White hills shroud themselves in clouds,
Sailing boats skim across the sea,
The waves rise higher, the fish deeper,
Trees shiver naked, stripped of foliage,
Windows bloom in soft red,
On the roofs the first snow falls.

The omens
 
White kingfishers sway
On sea and branches nearby.
She points to them and calls with clear
Charming voice: "They foretell
Good fortune!"
But I see more: from the mountain collar
A dark speck comes rushing down,
A black bird joins them.

Autumn
 
Far away the tight sky stood
Like a gray silken screen
Tense for death.
On this side a flight of
Birds wailing,
Over our heads, fled.
 
Green barely crept over the ground.
Sharp thrusted stems of reed.
The world stood defoliated
At the very end of season,
Where the sun abandoned its fate,
The moon again approached.

Iwaré
 
Where the forests allow no passage,
The temple gate stands, in the middle of the lake;
The stormy wind rocks its double arches,
The swell its reflection back and forth.
 
No priest and pilgrim in sacred boats,
Only spirits sail underneath it.
The waves sometimes want to enlarge the lake,
Especially in the wild evening glow,
 
When forest and gatepost bemoan together,
That between them and the wide sea
The distant waterfalls thunder,
That lean against unyielding mountains
The silence and darkness around Lake Iwaré.
                        (Pour Paul et Claire)

Morning (Yokohama Bay)
 
Fuji peak above morning mists.
Is there anything more pure,
Removed from the world.
Why then still mountains,
And houses and dwarves,
And gray hulls of battlecruisers?
Only again below
In the sea a second
Fuji peak.