There is
a hole inside
It yawns
and burns
And for
countless years on end, nothing has filled it.
None of
the beautiful things in the world could fill it.
The gales
that sweep the marshes of Kenashitai roar in a thousand colours
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The
autumn leaves of high Aizu dance in a sea of flames
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The
namahage of Oga shuffle and wave their cleavers and bellow
incomprehensible words
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
Date
Masamune of Sendai tells it a hundred stories about his own
brilliance
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The red
and orange dragonflies of Furano fly to my side, an escort up the
ridge
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The fuzzy
monkeys of Jigokudani come up to it with curious faces and poke it
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The twin
summits of Tsukuba stand with the female peak satisfyingly higher
than the male peak
But they
do not fill it, and everything hurts.
The
gorgeous mountains of Chichibu, Tama, Tanzawa, Hakone and Kōshu
disrobe before me, lead me into their realms, bid me walk and slide
upon their slopes and their curves, to lose myself amidst their
valleys and dark places.
They
are such beautiful mountains.
But
alas, they are earth and stone, while I am flesh
So
they do not fill the hole, and everything hurts.
Everything
hurts; I can only weep
I
have wept on the peaks and peninsulas of Aomori
I
have wept in the secluded ravines of Fukushima
I
have wept in the endless ricefields of Akita
I
have wept amidst the steaming springs of Miyagi
I
have wept on the lush plains of Hokkaido
I
have wept in the freezing snows of Nagano
I
have even wept on the roads of Ibaraki which stretch
across the horizons
And
I have wept on each of the slopes and curves, the valleys and dark
places around the Kantō
plain
Where
only the mountains hear
And
only the mountains care.
But
nothing fills the hole.
For
how can even the most beautiful things in the world fill the hole
When
there is no hug
No
warmth?
And
how can there be warmth
In a world of otoko
ga, onna ni
Or otoko
ga, onna o?*
In a world where it is expected
That women are rescued by men
But where for men to be rescued
by women is thought ridiculous?
Not by the mountains, mind you.
The mountains are vast
They are kind
They are strong
They do not care that you are
smaller than them, or weaker
For they enjoy your company, they
listen and talk and it is not small talk.
They teach you and learn from you
Want to be friends with you even
if you are sad
And will soak your tears in their
soil, their snow, no matter how loud, no matter how long
While on the other hand, those
who come in arrogance and gallantry are crushed.
In either case, you are left in
no doubt that it is yama
ga, anata ni
Or
yama
ga, anata o**
And they like it that way
The mountains like to play
They do not wait to be acted
upon, but reach out to touch you, to take you, to draw you into their
world, and to hug, because they like it.
Their wind sweeps upon you, and
hugs
Their shuffling branches descend
upon you, and hug
Their mud slides underfoot and
brings you to the ground, and hugs
Their spider webs stick in your
face, and hug
And their fuzzy bears come out
from the woods and go rawr rawr, and hug.
The mountains love.
They hold you in
the power of their rippling ridges, the fragrance of their woods, the
songs of their birds and winds that whisper peace into your soul.
And they do not see love as
something you want and they have,
no: not a thing to be won, or
bought, or competed for,
nor made
conditional on scoring happy-points with them.
No – the love of the mountains
is love, real love, that reaches out and leaves nobody behind
For they are vast
They are kind
They are strong.
These human women
I wish at least some were more
like those mountains
For in a world like this
There is no warmth
*Japanese:
otoko = man
onna
= woman
ga = (indicates
subject)
o
= (indicates object)
ni
= (indicates target or recipient)
**Japanese:
yama
= mountain
anata
= you
