Selections from Shouting in the Fields
by Shibuya Teisuke
Update: Two translations previously published here (“Inspiring Words” and “Scallion Flowers”) can now be read at Midnight Sun magazine.
Dedication to the 1963 Edition of Shouting in the Fields
I once again dedicate this modest book of poetry to the memory of the great Ukrainian serf-poet Taras Shevchenko, born 150 years ago this year, who suffered ten long years of exile, writing poetry and painting pictures, all for the emancipation of the serfs. I dedicate it also, once again, to my persecuted brothers and sisters in Japan.
9 March 1963, Shibuya Teisuke
Hayseed in a Rain Storm
Rain shoots wind howls
trees writhe leaves scatter
great hands of black clouds reach out
grazing the earth and forging! forging!
A storm! A storm! A storm!
Oh rain fall harder!
Oh wind blow stronger!
Oh trees moan louder!
While I, a damnable hayseed,
work madly alongside you!
A Dimly Lit Room
For some time now
his father
“a hard-working farmer”
has complained of a pain in his joints
from his sweat-drenched bed
while his mother
looking increasingly jaundiced of late
went to see a doctor
who told her she was anemic
Tell me, was it from overwork and malnourishment?
In a dimly lit room
he watches his parents
slowly wasting away
like two spent lanterns
But whom does he curse
and whom does he hate.....
My Cow
My cow, reduced to skin and bones,
like withered branches wrapped in cloth,
compelled to cruelest labor
to make things for man only,
each time I crack my whip
over your skeletal flanks
my heart is choked with tears
The leeches eating at your legs
are paprika red
Lacking the strength to resist
(or robbed, rather, of your strength from overwork),
you wade slowly
through the muddy rice paddy,
submerged to your belly,
your miserable figure
precisely
like that of us unconscious folk,
trampled by the modern world
My cow,
I do not know what you think of me,
who whips you,
but know that I am your brother
And the fact that I am whipping you
does not mean that I want to overwork you...
See that house, there, shining in the distance,
purchased by unearned means?
The bloodsucking master who lives there, who compels us to work,
is drowning in idleness
And the reason we must work from dawn to dusk,
dripping with sweat,
is that idle bastards like him rob us of all we make!
My cow,
you who have been robbed of the strength to resist,
you who have been compelled to make things for man,
you who have been robbed of your warm flesh and blood!
Mark my words:
I will pay them back
with flesh and blood of my own
Written by Shibuya Teisuke | Translation by Adam Kuplowsky
「野良に叫ぶ」より, 1926
Shibuya Teisuke (1905-1989): Japanese poet, farmer and activist. In 1926, he published his first and only collection of poetry, 野良に叫ぶ (Shouting in the Fields), which he dedicated to the memory of the Ukrainian serf-poet Taras Shevchenko. Despite his enormous impact on Japan’s rural poetry movement, he abruptly withdrew from Japan’s literary scene to commit himself fully to socialist and farmers’ rights causes.
I have received permission to publish my translations from the Fujimi City Library (Saitama, Japan), which holds the rights to Shibuya Teisuke’s works.